DEEP SIX: UNEXPURGATED
by McGee's Muse
Summary: Stories based on the characters in Deep Six. In chapters 14-21 Tibbs is in a romantic relationship with Molly Han when his past comes back to haunt him. In the form of his ex-wives! This arc is now complete and we will move on to the mystery pairing next.
1. Chapter 1

"This isn't what we agreed on."

The glacial tone and the raised eyebrows confirmed his suspicions. He hadn't gotten away with it.

"I'd do anything to help my clients sell more books, Tim. You know that. But _this_" Lyndi Crawshaw said as she pushed the manuscript across her desk at him "just isn't going to cut it."

She sat back in her seat and looked long and hard at him – her eyes narrowed in displeasure. Clearly waiting for his explanation. But when McGee shifted uncomfortably in his chair she changed tracks in an instant – her face softening into the bargain.

"What seems to be the problem?" she asked, less abrasively.

"My colleagues" he admitted softly.

"Are they jealous of your success?"

"Not exactly."

"Then what?"

Tim stared off into space for a moment, his mind reliving the moments in the observation room when Gibbs had been interrogating Lyndi a year earlier.

"_**I actually trusted her."**_

"_**There is no way you could have known, McGee" Ziva observed.**_

"_**Ziva's right, probie. It's not your fault. But if you even think about writing a third novel, I'll kill you." **_

"They don't like the fact that I based my characters on them" he said slowly.

"They should be flattered" Lyndi scoffed. "Don't they appreciate that you've immortalized them for posterity?"

When McGee shook his head she steepled her fingers on her desk and leaned forward.

"All writers get their inspiration from somewhere, Tim. _All writers_. Television series writers ride with the police, with the feds, with whoever it is they're writing about. They take their cues and their plotlines from real life cases. It doesn't mean that they're violating people's privacy. At some point in their career every author writes something about events or places or people they have a personal connection with. It's what gives the stories their element of reality. You're hardly guilty of _character assassination_, for God's sake!"

"That's not the way they see it" McGee said. "It's made things .. awkward."

"_**For your information, I've never had sexual relations with a corpse."**_

"_**That character was not based on you."**_

"_**His name was Pimmy Jalmer, McGee!"**_

"_**Well, he's French Polynesian."**_

"_**Doctor, I'm going to get the gurney now" Palmer said, not bothering to conceal his irritation.**_

"_**It was only a dream!" Tim called after him. "Come on ... haven't you ever heard of symbolism?"**_

McGee shrugged as he met her eyes.

"It's .. complicated" he said.

When it became clear that he wasn't going to divulge any more, Lyndi Crawshaw stood and walked over to the window.

"To be blunt, Tim" she said after a few moments of silence, "there is no market for a novel about the exploits of a private investigator and his octagenarian grandmother. Even if she _was_ a member of the French resistance in her youth. Look, you're a successful novelist. To be completely frank, one of the most successful novelists this publishing house has ever had. _Y_ou have a good thing going here. Why mess with something that works? You've got a huge fanbase out there that's been waiting for a third novel for months. Do you really want to disappoint all those people?"

She smiled to herself as she watched him react to her words, and carried on.

"Your fans have been very clear about they want. In letters and emails. Even on our blog. They want to know more about the characters in the first two novels. They want to read about the sexual exploits of Agents Tommy and Officer Lisa; they're hoping that you'll find a way to resolve the tension between Agent McGregor and forensic scientist Amy Sutton; they want to learn more about what makes LJ Tibbs tick. You've made these characters come alive in your readers' minds, and they're clamoring for more. You have an opportunity here, Tim. _But_ ..."

"But?"

"It's clear that you may have choices to make."

"Choices?" he asked as he realized suddenly that her voice had fallen a notch as if the topic she was about to broach was unsavory.

"You may have to choose what's more important to you. Being a best-selling novelist or …"

She trailed off as his cell phone went off, but he really didn't need her to finish the sentence.

"Yeah Tony" he said – standing from his seat to take the call. "I'll be back soon. I'm ... at the dry cleaners."

Lyndi smiled at him as he slipped his phone back into his jacket.

"I can't give you much more time" she said as she filed the rejected manuscript away, "but here is something for you to consider. Write an anthology of short stories instead of a novel. My feeling is that the fans will react just as favourably, if not more so, to something like that. It will contain something for everyone. It might also be less stressful for you."

"Standalone chapters?" McGee asked, his interest piqued.

"Precisely."

* * *

A few hours later Mcgee sat in front of his Remington. Still conflicted, but not ready to give up all the perks that came with being a writer. With quiet deliberation he threaded a sheet of paper through the heavy rolls of his manual typewriter and started to type.

**Deep Six: Unexpurgated**

* * *

******A/N:** What follows will be the ramblings of McGee's muse.

According to the dictionary, _**unexpurgated**_ is an adjective. Used to describe a piece of writing not censored by having allegedly offensive passages removed.

In other words you can expect smut. Please be sure to check the warning at the beginning of each chapter.

Now ... something which is in the profile but which also needs to be addressed here:

Will fun be poked at McGee and everyone else?

Yes. Most definitely. Gentle fun though. You can love McGee to bits, but the parts of his writing which got screen time in _Cover Story, Twisted Sister and Smoked _are ... um ... pretty over the top. So expect that kind of writing, and **please don't anyone get uptight.**

Remember that you'll be reading about fictitious characters based on fictitious characters. Not trying to bring anyone down.

Since McGee clearly based his characters on his colleagues, the plan is to have him write spins on some of the episodes from season 3 through mid-season 5. All of the major players in the series from that time are expected to put in an appearance.

It's an excuse to write some amusing stories that can't be written about Gibbs et al., but **can **be written about Tibbs et al., All of the stories should be humorous after a fashion.

So sit back, enjoy the oneshots as they appear, and leave your thoughts if you can.

Thanks in advance for reading:)

MM


	2. Dead end

Special Agent Tommy hated being wrong.

He especially hated being wrong in front of his partner, Officer Lisa, because she never let him forget it. Even now, as he crawled in behind her through the opening they'd made in the fake wall of the cargo container he could hear her muttering in Hebrew; no doubt maligning his intelligence.

She stopped and he stopped just short of crashing into her; right into her fine, firm, round behind in tight cargo pants now only inches from the tip of his nose. He couldn't take his eyes off the taut material and almost without his knowing it he moved closer still. An insane urge came upon him to open his mouth and nibble that butt. Just nip through the material to the sleek flesh below and keep noshing his way up and down the golden skinned length until she screamed his name.

He opened his mouth and …

"Tommy!" Lisa screamed at him.

Her yell brought him up short and he leaned back on his heels - which probably saved his life because he'd been _this close_ to chowing down on some prime tenderloin.

She stood up and faced him, and now her crotch was level with his lips and he swallowed and closed his eyes. Tibbs could have no idea how many times a day he, _Very Special Agent Tommy_, prize stud of the agency, came close to death in his more or less hidden lust for his beautiful and sensual partner. He wondered if he should tell his boss, but then shivered at the thought of how many head slaps such a confession would bring.

Lisa got tired of waiting for him to stand up so she reached down and grabbed his jacket and pulled him upright, making sure to rub her body against his every inch of the way, her soft braless breasts rubbing his face tantalizingly as he passed them by.

He moaned. She smiled; enjoying his discomfort – the evil, sexy bitch.

He thought he might love her.

"Boost me, Tommy," she said.

'Oh, I'll _boost_ you alright, Lisa', he thought as he put his arms around her waist, pulling her tight, hands cupping that delicious, taunting ass.

* * *

**A/N:** Yup, this is kind of like a teaser. McGee seeking balance before plunging headlong into writing. It may be a few days before the next one is up, but it made sense to have something.


	3. Slip and slide

**A/N:**

Rating is somewhere between a T and an M on this one.

It bears repeating that no offense is meant by this story, its contents, or its references. It's just a bit of fun. Also a way of establishing a few things like names and surnames (there is very little information given about **Deep Six** really, so there has been some .. improvisation) and the fact that Tibbs is a sexual creature. There's also the idea being explored that McGregor is McGee's _Mary Sue_ (or whatever the male equivalent of that is). The agent he wants to be, as it were. So he's a lot more self-assured than McGee himself is .. and doesn't get ribbed as often as McGee does in canon.

Would love to hear your thoughts – if you are so inclined.

* * *

"I'll bet Tommy made some unseemly comment about these legs, didn't he?"

"Why would he do that, Mr. Jalmer?"

"I just mean, uh, knowing Tommy .." the young man blubbered as the medical examiner looked askance at him. "They're fairly shapely legs, Doctor."

"Yes. Except nobody had the bad taste to verbalize such a thought. Until now."

Jalmer's face flushed bright red, and he was ridiculously grateful to hear the doors to the autopsy suite swish open.

"Whatcha got, Goose?"

"Jareth..." Ronald Gosling said, looking up from the body.

"Anything?" LJ Tibbs asked as he sauntered in.

"I don't answer forensics questions I don't know the answers to. You know that. Why do you keep asking me?"

"Force of habit. We need a quick resolution on this one, Goose. Director's breathing down my neck."

"Dare I ask why?"

"The Under Secretary's breathing down hers."

"Ah. Well all I can tell you at the moment is that she appears to be in perfect health."

"Except for the part where she's _dead_" Tibbs observed wryly, just as his cell phone went off. "Yeah. Be right there" he said, before turning on his heel and leaving.

"Mr. Jalmer!" the medical examiner snapped. "Stop fantasizing and pass me the scalpel. It's only a matter of time before he's back."

* * *

The Director raised her eyebrows as he barged into her office, but she evidently had bigger things on her mind than his lack of manners.

"I've managed to talk Under Secretary Burgess into letting us interview the witness" she said slowly. "I hope I don't have to remind you just how sensitive this case is?"

"You don't."

"Not only is he a close personal friend of his, he's also the Vice Chief of Operations." She pinched the bridge of her nose before adding, "If it gets out that he was in the company of a call girl when she died .."

"I hear ya."

"Have we got _anything_ yet? I've already fielded three calls from the Under Secretary in the past hour."

"They're just starting the autopsy, and I was on my way to the lab when you called."

"Robert Fitzpatrick is on his way in. Keep me posted. And Jareth ..."

"Yeah?"

"Tread carefully.. There's only so much leeway I can give you on this one."

* * *

"_Who's a good Jareth?_" Amy Sutton cooed.

"_I'm_ a good Jareth?"

"Magic man!" she exclaimed happily as she whirled round.

"You replace Bart?" Tibbs asked as he caught sight of the stuffed English bulldog in her arms.

"Tibbs! No-one could ever replace Bart. But I came in this morning and this guy was on my workbench. I think I have a secret admirer. Be flattered" she added when he continued to stare at her. "He's just so strong and silent and handsome .. so I decided to call him Jareth."

"Uh-huh" Tibbs said with an eye roll of his own. "Got anything on the case?"

"I'm glad you asked – because the answer is _yes_."

"Sometime today, Ams" he growled.

"She was poisoned."

"Poisoned?"

"Yup. Our killer mixed sodium cyanide with dimethysulfoxide and then applied it to … _can I get a drum roll please?_"

"Ta-da" Tibbs said, trying to hold onto his patience.

"You're no fun, Tibbs."

"Director's breathing down my neck, Ams."

"Ooh. How's that working out for you?" she teased, before catching the look in his eye. "Right. Sorry. Back on topic. Our killer mixed sodium cyanide with dimethysulfoxide and then applied it to her stockings."

All sorts of visuals assaulted Tibbs. All of them X-rated.

"Her _stockings_?"

"Yup.

"Dimethysulfoxide, or DMSO as it's known, is an industrial strength solvent, Tibbs. It carries whatever it comes in contact with _directly_ into the blood stream."

Tibbs nodded and turned to leave.

"Hey .. whatever happened to _nice job_?"

"Nice job, Ams."

"Obviously not nice enough."

"Fridge" he said without so much as a backwards glance.

Amy looked over and gasped.

"I don't know how you did that" she called after him, as she pulled a Blue Moose out of the cooler "and I don't care!"

* * *

"How many pairs of stockings can a woman own?" Tommy asked as he loaded the fourth box into the truck.

"Why do you assume I know?" Lisa asked, her tone informing him that she did not appreciate the question.

"Because ..."

"Because I'm a woman?" she snapped.

"Because you're a great detective" Tommy said with a cheesy grin as he pinched her cheek affectionately.

"True" she replied. "But touch me like that in public again and I will make you _eat_ your fingers."

"Whatcha got McGregor?" he asked – never more pleased to see the other agent.

"How many stockings can a woman own?" McGregor asked as he came towards them, struggling with five boxes of his own.

Tommy laughed out loud and clapped him on the back.

"_Ask Lisa_" he whispered as he took the boxes from him and tossed them into the back of the truck.

"I don't have a death wish" McGregor said as he whipped out his phone and called the lab. "Hey .. we're on our way back. Yeah, we got all of them."

"So .." Tommy asked, lowering his voice as they walked round the truck "any one of those fine ladies make a move on you?"

"No. You?"

"Hell yeah!"

McGregor took in the expectant look on Tommy's face.

"Not asking .." he said as he opened the passenger door and climbed inside.

"Oh _come on_ ..." Tommy protested. "Aren't you the least bit curious which one?"

"It's need to know" McGregor said. "And I don't."

* * *

"Guess I don't have to ask how you knew the victim" Tibbs said as he slid a photograph across the table.

Robert Fitzpatrick ran a hand through his hair, and the agent was sure the man had aged ten years in the last few hours.

"Is there anyone in the observation room?" Fitzpatrick asked cagily.

"No" Tibbs lied. - feeling no need to inform him that the Director of the agency was privy to their conversation.

"Agent Tibbs .." the man began, nervously wringing his hands together, "if any of what I'm about to tell you gets out .."

"BSIS does not leak, Sir."

The man in front of him relaxed fractionally - and then took a deep breath and spilled the beans.

Ten minutes later Tibbs slipped into observation and met the Director's worried look.

"How am I supposed to tell Under Secretary Burgess?" she asked.

"With a smile?" Tibbs said.

"It isn't funny, Jareth."

"Burgess has more important things to worry about right now than the fact that the third highest ranking official in the organization is a cross-dresser" he stated, turning to look at the man across the window from them.

"Like the fact that Fitzpatrick was probably the intended victim?"

"Yeah. Something like that."

* * *

Tibbs sucked in a breath as swathes of gossamer brushed up against his skin; and willed himself to stay calm.

"Any matches, Ams?" he called as he navigated the rows and rows of stockings hanging from the ceiling and draped over every available surface.

"We're still sorting them out by owner" she called from somewhere at the back of her lab, "but you can help if you want. Or .. not" she added when she saw the fierce look on his face. "

"I'll pass."

"You okay, Boss?" McGregor asked, confused by the gruffness in the older agent's voice.

"Yeah" Tibbs said dismissively – hardly about to divulge why he was so unsettled. "Call me when you get a match."

"Is it just me?" Tommy asked when Tibbs had beat a hasty retreat.

"Is _what_ just you?" Amy asked.

"Does anyone else think he looked _aroused_? What? It's a perfectly legitimate question" he said as everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at him.

There was silence for a moment, and then the others went back to pulling stockings out of the boxes.

"There was enough poison in her system to kill a small water buffalo" Ronald Gosling said as he walked into the lab holding the results that Amy had sent him.

"Water buffalo?" Lisa asked.

"I tire of saying small hor - hello, what have we here?" he asked as he got slapped in the face by a dangling stocking.

"We're hoping to find a match to _these_" Amy said as she indicated the pair that had been found at the crime scene.

"Ah. No luck so far I take it?"

"We are still sorting the stockings according to owner" Lisa said as she went back to pulling pairs out of the box she'd been assigned.

"That's a lot of stockings" Gosling observed.

"There were five women living in the house" McGregor contributed. "Including the Madam."

"It was like the Playboy Mansion" Tommy said, his eyes glazing over.

"How much does a pair of stockings like that cost anyway?" McGregor wanted to know as he eyed the original pair.

"Somewhere in the region of fifty to a hundred dollars" Gosling said. "If they're originals and in good condition. Which these seem to be."

"_For a few strips of nylon_?"

"These are vintage silks, Sean" the medical examiner said as he snapped on a pair of gloves, picked up one of the stockings and inspected it closely.

"Really?"

"Oh yes. I'd say that these probably date back to the the 1940s. Although the term _vintage_ is actually relative here, because the knitting machine was invented in 1589 if memory serves. That's when wool, silk, and cotton stockings first saw the light of day. The original stockings were generally worn by men and referred to as _hose. F_rom which we get the word_ hosiery._"

"Men in tights!" Tommy said triumphantly.

"Not quite" Goose said indulgently. "You may, from your school days, remember the immortal line from Shakespeare's Henry IV. _Their points being broken, down fell their hose. Act two, scene four_?" he prompted when all faces remained blank.

"Sorry" Amy said with a small apologetic shrug. "Shakespeare wasn't my thing."

"Heathens!" Gosling muttered despairingly. "Either way, the market was revolutionized when it became socially acceptable for women to show their legs. Did you know that the word _nylon_ gets the first two letters of its name from New York?"

"Wow" McGregor said.

"Yes. In 1939 the new synthetic fiber was shown at the World Trade Fair there."

"What can you tell us about that one?" Amy asked, indicating the one he was holding.

"Lets see now. One hundred percent silk. 15 denier. Reinforced heel and toe. Smooth plain stocking welt for easy use with a garter belt. This color is known as _nude_ – but it is not quite as sheer as the same color in nylon stockings, because silk yarn is heavier by definition. They are, however, very shiny and create a luminous glow on the legs of the wearer."

"You seem to know a lot about stockings, Goose" Tommy said suggestively with a waggle of his eyebrows.

"Ah yes. Great Aunt was quite the fashionista. I was raised to, shall we say, _appreciate_ the finer distinctions between the Manhattan Heel, the Havana Heel, the French Heel, and the Cuban Heel. Among other things. I have to confess it made me quite a hit with the ladies when .. but perhaps that is a story for another time."

The team smiled.

"You know, Goose, if you helped us I bet we could get this done faster than if we muddled through alone" Tommy began, sensing an opportunity to get information. "We did ask _Tibbs_ to help, but .."

Something flashed across the medical examiner's face, and the agent was quick to pursue the lead.

"_Goose?" _he drawled as he moved closer._ "_Is there anything we should know about Tibbs and stockings?"

Gosling suppressed a smile.

"Nothing at all" he said.

"But you will help us?" Lisa asked, holding out a box.

"With pleasure" the older man said as he dipped his hand into it.

He was sitting at his desk when his phone went off.

* * *

"Tibbs."

He listened for a while before heading to the assessment center.

"Sit-rep Agent Tibbs" the Director said as he slipped into a seat next her. "Please tell me you have something."

"McGregor found a match. Apparently one other girl uses the same type of stocking."

"Are you bringing her in?"

"Di Amo and Sharon are on their way there."

"Your gut's telling you something" the Director said as she looked closely at him.

Tibbs angled his head slightly before replying, "we could be looking at a crime of passion."

The Director's brow furrowed for a moment - and then understanding dawned.

"Was he _her_ client before moving on to the victim?"

"Either that or she _wanted_ him to be her client. Apparently Fitzpatrick was _generous_. And he did say he liked to wear the stockings _after _they'd been modeled for a while.."

"So the theory of him being the intended victim might go out the window" she said, exhaling gently – the relief evident in her tone.

"Won't know till I've interrogated her."

"What a mess!" the Director said with a sigh as she stood from her seat. "What is it with men and stockings anyway? Is it something genetically inbuilt?"

Tibbs breathed hard and deep in the darkness; fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes off her legs.

* * *

"The front door was open" a voice said from the top of the stairs two days later.

Tibbs looked up from the piece of wood he was whittling, and stared at the redhead in front of him.

"I just wanted to thank you, Agent Tibbs. For your discretion."

"Not necessary" he said, refraining from asking how she'd tracked him down to his address.

"Well it's either thank _you_ or thank your Director. Something tells me she wouldn't enjoy that much. And that I wouldn't either."

Tibbs allowed himself a slight smirk.

"You're absolutely _sure_ I can't do anything for you?" she asked as she leaned back against his workbench and observed him with a hungry look in her eyes. "That's too bad."

"No thanks necessary" he repeated.

Although the words dried in his mouth when her legs crossed and she slipped one shoe off. A nylon-draped foot slowly moved up and down the leg behind it. She looked up at him, eyes dancing in amusement, as she realized where his eyes had gone.

"Like what you see, Agent Tibbs?" she purred.

He swallowed hard, more than aware that his burgeoning groin was giving him away. But words were hard to come by.

"Sit on the stool and scoot closer" she ordered. And he complied – because the moment she let her skirt drop to the ground and stood before him in stockings and garters, he had no free will left.

She smiled indulgently as she hoisted herself up backwards onto his workbench and ran the side of her foot up his leg. Watching as he bit his bottom lip and kept his eyes glued to the foot making its way to the hemline of his shorts. The nylon caressed his skin like a whisper, and he bit back a moan as her other foot started to creep up his left leg. He risked one look in her direction, and his breath hitched at the sight of her leaning slightly backwards with both legs outstretched.

A slight rotation of her feet drew his attention back to them as they began an intimate exploration all their own.

"So much more fun than removing socks" said sultrily as her toes rose; insinuating themselves between his hips and his waistband before slipping his shorts downwards. He moaned - straining against the tight material. Relieved when the shorts bypassed his knees and pooled round his ankles.

His head smacked back against the the block of wood he'd been working on as her feet started their upwards trek again; the sensation of nylon against his bare legs almost more than he could handle. One foot came to rest on his right hip bone, but the other one rose deliciously between his thighs; teasing his sac before running along the underside of his hardness. Pushing it against his stomach and teasing the head mercilessly in a series of counter-clockwise movements that had him struggling to hold on moments later.

Tibbs bit back a curse as the contact was suddenly truncated, and cracked open an eye. She was giving him that amused look again as inch by deliberate inch she pulled the stocking off her right leg and then off her left. But whatever he'd been expecting, it hadn't been being sheathed in nylon. He twitched almost convulsively as she slipped one of the stockings on. Just about holding it together as she encased him thoroughly. His head fell back again as she wrapped the other stocking round her fingers. Undulating it up and down his length in a repetitive fluid motion that sent jolts of electricity shooting up his spine.

He recognized the strangled growl echoing around the basement as having come from him – but for a moment he wasn't sure whether he was alive or dead. When he finally managed to open his eyes, the redhead was standing in front of him with her arms plastered firmly across her chest and a grin on her face.

"I take it that was good for you" she said, looking well-pleased with herself.

"Mmhmm" Tibbs croaked.

"Then we're even" she said, slipping back into her skirt.

"Hey .." he called after her as she started to climb the stairs.

The redhead leaned over the banisters, anticipating what he was about to say.

"Keep them" she said. "As a souvenir."


	4. Two for one

**A/N:** This one comes with a reminder. These are _the ramblings of McGee's muse._ The premise is that McGregor is McGee's fantasy, and that most of the stuff McGregor does (and has done in the published novels) are things that McGee would like to do but feels like he can't or won't ever get the chance to do. In fact, we've seen that demonstrated a time or two in the series. Even in the _Capital Offense _episode in_ Season 6._ Plus, Tim has said more than once that he wants to be more macho like Tony. McGee probably thinks about things like this. He is a healthy young man after all. One presumes he has a healthy sex drive. He just can't seem to find a girlfriend - so writing this all up in some way might be cathartic. Or at least that's the working theory.

So .. pinch of salt, please. The series is not subtitled **Unexpurgated** for no reason.

* * *

Special Agent McGregor looked around the darkened room. Small round tables with candles offered little light. The long wooden bar was lit a bit better and there he spotted his prey. The dark curly hair hanging down her back gave her away. Officer Lisa sat by herself surprising him. A woman who looked like Lisa rarely sat by herself in an establishment like this. As he drew closer he heard her hoarsely order another shot of tequila. Ah, that explained it. When she drank tequila she lost control and when Lisa lost control you didn't want to be near her; it could be dangerous. She'd probably already scared away any male brave enough to approach her.

So why was McGregor here looking for his teammate? He'd always been tender hearted when it came to the fairer sex. Lisa and Agent Tommy had had a huge screaming match in the bullpen - ending only when Tibbs had slapped both their heads hard enough to make people on the far side of the room wince. Lisa had grabbed her stuff and stomped out. He'd waited for Tommy to get up and follow her, make peace with his tempestuous partner like they always did; but Tommy sat and fumed at his desk, telling McGregor to mind his own damned business, and McGregor hadn't even said a damned thing.

He sat on the vacant stool next to her and waved at the barmaid, a tall, buxom redhead he'd been out with a couple of times. She came to stand in front of him and made sure she bent over, pushing her cleavage together in the low cut sleeveless white shirt she wore.

"Hi, Hot Stuff, how's it hanging?"

McGregor felt his cheeks burn slightly at her vulgarity. It was one reason they'd never gone out more than a few times. However, as she stayed in position he began to remember how acrobatic she'd been in his bed and he felt himself tightening at the quick flash of memory of her long, naked legs wound round his neck while she hung half off the bed and he strove to keep them from falling on the floor while still maintaining that all-important connection. He gave her a slow smile.

"Good to see you again, Angela."

She licked her lips.

"What it'll be, Stud?"

He heard Lisa snort to his left.

"What you got on tap?"

"Michelob and Coors."

"Give me a Coors and give the lady here another tequila."

Lisa lifted her empty shot glass in his direction and said in a low voice, "Thanks, McGregor."

He nodded and then turned in her direction putting his arm across the back of her stool.

"Lisa, you and Tommy, why…"

He hesitated. Lisa was a trained assassin and while he knew himself to be brave and well trained in self defense he was also no fool and pissing Lisa off was never wise, only Tommy did it on a regular basis. She saved him the trouble of finishing his question.

"Why do we fight? Why don't we just do IT and get IT over with? Do we love each other or hate each other or do we just to fuck?"

She sighed and then slammed her empty glass down on the hard surface in front of her.

"I do not know, McGregor. He cannot make up his mind. Sometimes he seems to want me but then he turns me away. And if I find another man I might be interested in he gets between us until the man gives up. It is like he does not really want me but he does not want anyone else to have me either."

He gaped for a moment in surprise. It all sounded so familiar. It could describe his relationship over the last 4 years with their forensic specialist, the sexy Goth, Amy Sutton, his one-time lover. She didn't want a relationship with him but she somehow managed to disrupt every nascent romance he started. He'd had no idea Lisa felt Tommy did the same thing to her. Maybe they had more in common than he'd thought?

Angela brought their drinks. Officer Lisa picked up her shot and downed in a swift swallow. McGregor took a sip of his beer and watched the dark-haired beauty next to him. She closed her eyes and swayed. No doubt she'd had at least one too many tequilas. When she stood up he was ready for her and caught her as she tripped when she turned to leave.

"Lisa, did you drive?"

"Of course, I drove, McGregor. I always drive. I am a good driver!"

He shivered. He'd faced death many times and in many ways but to be truthful Officer Lisa's driving scared the crap out of him.

"Let me drive you home, Lisa. You've had too much to drink tonight."

She started shaking her head and he put his arm around her shoulder and said, "Please?"

Lisa smiled sadly and nodded and let him guide her outside. Once out of the building he walked her toward his car on the opposite side of the street. When he opened the door of the Cayenne he started to ease her into the seat but she stopped and turned into his body and put her arms around his neck.

"Do you find me attractive, McGregor?"

She pressed herself against him. He felt the hard tips of her breasts stabbing him mid chest and as she ground her pelvis into him a part of him, lower diwn his body, started rising to the occasion.

"Lisa, I don't think you want to do this," he said trying to push her away.

"Oh yes, I do. I want to go to bed with you, McGregor. You are strong and smart and very sexy and you make me burn with desire. I want to scream for you."

Somewhere inside his brain, some place that was still getting a minimal blood supply even while the rest of his blood traveled below his belt, he knew she was lying. She wanted Tommy. It showed in every interaction with her partner but right now with her lithe body rubbing up against him and her hands reaching around to grab his ass and pull him as close as she could through their clothes he didn't give a good damn about Agent Tommy.

Oh God, she was turning him on.

He pressed his lips down on hers and put an arm around her back, the other began to push up her shirt seeking the pebble-hard nipples he felt digging into his chest. Oh yes…

Suddenly he heard a shriek of anger and Lisa was pulled from his arms.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, you bitch? Get away from him!"

McGregor blinked. It was Amy! What the hell?

She shoved Lisa. Amy's brow was furrowed in her anger and she bared her teeth.

"He's mine," she said and shoved Lisa away from him.

Lisa retaliated and shoved Amy as hard as she could. Amy staggered back going down on one knee. In a second she was up and flying at Lisa. In shock, McGregor did nothing. He watched as Amy swung her arm around and slapped Lisa as hard as she could. Lisa screeched in rage then slapped Amy back. They grabbed handfuls of each other's hair, cursing and yelling all the while.

He felt his incipient erection hardening, lengthening as he watched them. Two beautiful women battling it out over him; that ass Tommy had never had this happen before! He whipped out his cell phone and took a quick couple of pictures.

Lisa grabbed the back of Amy's head pulling her close looking like she was going in for a head butt. But she stopped and looked deep into Amy's eyes. Amy returned the favor and after a second or two pulled Lisa's head all the way to her lips and laid a kiss on the shorter brunette. McGregor blinked in surprise as he took it in but then felt a fresh surge of lust watching the two women.

Amy broke the kiss first.

"I've wanted to do that for the longest time, Lisa."

Officer Lisa nodded, "Me too."

They kissed again trying their best to meld their pubic mounds into one.

"Oh my God," breathed McGregor softly. He didn't believe this was happening.

Lisa broke free this time. She put her arm around Amy's waist letting her hand rest on the Goth's ass.

"My place?" she asked huskily.

Amy nodded and licked Lisa's lips. They both smiled and began to walk away.

McGregor came out of his stupor.

"Hey. HEY!"

They turned their heads his way in unison, both with one raised eyebrow.

"What about me?"

Even to him he sounded whiney but goddamn he was turned on and they were leaving!

The girls looked at each other and then giggled.

"You're on your own, McGregor," Amy said and she and Lisa resumed their journey toward Sapphic satisfaction. Amy made an up and down grasping motion with her free hand as she turned away.

As they neared Amy Sutton's converted 1956 ambulance he heard Officer Lisa's voice drift back.

"You might call Tommy and see what he's doing…"

With erection still throbbing in time to his heart beat he watched his coworkers drive away .

So close, so close, this close to one of his favorite fantasies…

Shit.

He slammed the car door closed. He reached down and tried to adjust his parts into a less painful contortion. He started back across the street to the bar. Sitting down carefully, he waved at Angela. Call Tommy, yeah right…two girls together was so different than two guys. Tommy was good looking and all but McGregor was definitely only interested in females, right? He wondered what Lisa had meant by that comment?

"Shot of tequila, please Angela."

"Coming right up, Hot Stuff," she said and then licked her lips once more.

Remembering those long, long naked legs and her enthusiastic approach he had an idea. Curling his finger at her, he waited til she got close enough for him to whisper, "What time you get off tonight?"

"Right now, if you want."

"Oh yeah, I want, Angela. I want."

She reached over and kissed him, her tongue finding its way into his mouth unerringly then she pinched his cheek.

"Be right back, lover," she said.

He nodded and watched the sway of her hips as she walked away to get her things. Then he had a thought.

"Hey, Angela? You wouldn't happen to have a friend that might want join us would you?"


	5. Captive audience

**Author's note:**

Just a reminder that Jareth is also the name of a stuffed bulldog belonging to Amy Sutton. He was introduced two chapters ago, and is named after Tibbs.

* * *

"If Goose finds out about this .."

"He'll thank us."

"He'll fire him, Tommy. And Tibbs will fire us."

"They aren't going to find out. You and Amy are _that good_."

"Aren't you the least bit uncomfortable with this?" McGregor said, looking up at the forensic scientist.

"Um …. no?" she replied as she fiddled with the last piece of equipment and jumped to the ground.

Tommy's cell phone went off.

"They're back from lunch. We need to get out of here now."

* * *

A few hours later Ronald Gosling watched his young apprentice through narrowed eyes.

"Is something the matter?" he asked when the pacing, fidgeting, scratching, and foot tapping began to grate on his nerves.

Jalmer's head snapped up.

"Um .. I'm having a little problem with the smell today."

"Really? I think he smells like my mother's fried chicken."

"Yeah, that would be the problem."

The medical examiner eyed him. The boy was lying – he was sure of it. But for the life of him he couldn't figure out the root cause of the anxiety.

"I trust you can finish this off without supervision?" he asked a few moments later. "Great aunt is having her toe nails clipped this evening, and I have to be on hand to make sure she doesn't make a pass at the podiatrist. It wasn't pretty last time."

"I always say .. you can pick your nose but you can't pick your family" Pimmy said, with the first grin Gosling had seen in two days.

"There's a touch of the poet in you, Mr. Jalmer" he replied indulgently as he put his scrubs aside and slipped into his sports coat.

He suppressed a sigh when he was rewarded with a broad smile.

"I will see you in the morning."

"Yes, Doctor. Good night.

* * *

"Hey!" McGregor said, snatching the popcorn back from Tommy. "Get your own."

Tommy made a derisive sound, and stuck his hand into Lisa's bowl.

"Do not make me hurt you" she snarled before addressing Amy. "What are you doing?"

"I can't watch this" the goth replied, peeping out from inbetween her fingers as they watched Jalmer walk about in the autopsy suite, putting things away.

"You were the one who suggested we place a camera in autopsy in the first place" McGregor reminded her.

"Well yeah, but .. okay .. I'll cover Bart and Jareth's eyes instead."

"Do you believe the rumours, McGregor?" Lisa wanted to know even as she slapped Tommy's hand away with an eye roll.

The agent shrugged non-committally.

"The reputation of BSIS is at stake" Tommy snapped. "We _need_ to know."

"And what if the rumours are true?"

Tommy considered for a moment. Smiling before saying, "If they are true I see many drinks in our future."

"Oh God ..." Amy vocalised, covering her eyes again as Jalmer opened one of the metal freezers and pulled out a tray.

"What the .." McGregor began, peering closely at the screen as the autopsy gremlin proceeded to pull out all the resident cadavers.

* * *

Pimmy Jalmer looked nervously round the autopsy suite and cleared his throat.

"Dr. Gosling .."

He cleared his throat and began again.

"Dr. Gosling says that because what we do is so invasive and impersonal, talking to you helps. To establish a relationship and ..."

He trailed off self-consciously, and tugged at his scrubs.

"I'm a little bit overdressed for this, aren't I? I've never really done anything like this before, and I'm a little .. okay, more than a little .. nervous. There, I've said it. I'm nervous."

He paced in front of the trays as he spoke, his brow firmly furrowed; his pulse somewhat thready.

"See .. my palms are sweaty, and I .."

He cleared his throat again and turned away from his supine audience. Trying to get his breathing under control. For a dry run this wasn't going well at all. He reminded himself that he knew these people; had worked on them. Seen them turned inside out. Had an attachment of sorts to them. The real thing would be a whole different ball game. He'd be dealing with strangers.

"You can do this, Pimmy" he said sternly to himself. "You can do this."

He took a deep breath and swung round – easing his body into something akin to a sidestep as he clapped his hands in time to his singing.

"_Na na na na na na na na na naaa .. baby give it up. Give it up, baby give it up. Na na na na na na na na na naaa .. baby give it up._"

He stopped - looking displeased.

"Maybe I need something a little more dynamic. And maybe I need the music" he said as he pulled a small tape recorder from his desk and depressed the _start_ button.

"_Waww_" he shouted as he flapped his arms; high stepping and stomping at imaginary dust. "_I took my baby on a Saturday bang. Boy is that girl with you? __Yes we're one and the same. Now I believe in miracles. And a miracle has happened tonight.__ But, if you're thinkin' about my baby it don't matter if you're black or white."_

He fell silent again.

"The crotch grab thing isn't working, is it?"

He picked the machine up and fast forwarded it to something else. Grabbing an imaginary microphone out of the air as he stabbed an index finger accusingly at the guests.

"_Just who do you think you are? Take it like a man baby if that's what you are. 'Cos I'm moving on up. You're moving on out. Movin' on up. Nothing can stop me. Moving on up. You're moving on out. Time to break free. Nothing can stop me."_

He surveyed the room.

"Too much? Too little? Maybe something manly which is actually sung by a man. This one?"

With grim determination he splashed himself with a glass of water, shucked off his jacket, and rammed the imaginary microphone into an imaginary stand. Keeping rhythm with the heel of his right foot.

"_Get up, get on up. Get up, get on up. Stay on the scene, get on up, like a sex machine, get on up_. No, huh?" he asked his captive audience. "Okay, so that leaves only one song. I don't mind telling you that this is the one I really want to sing. I just don't know if my voice is, as Dr. Gosling would say, _mellifluous_ enough."

He reached for his jacket again. Closing his eyes and swaying from side to side as he swayed from side to side. Summoning every ounce of manliness from deep within him as he tried to emulate the lush baritone croon.

"_The first, my last, my everything. And the answer to all my dreams. You're my sun, my moon, my guiding star. My kind of wonderful, that's what you are. I know there's only, only one like you. There's no way they could have made two. You're, you're all I'm living for. Your love I'll keep for evermore. You're the first, you're the last, my everything."_

"Thank you" he whispered to the bodies a few minutes later as he pushed them securely back into storage.

"No! Don't put me back in the dark!"

He practically jumped out of his skin.

"Li!" he admonsished. "You made me almost .. I .."

Li Michelin from the _Quality Assurance_ department stood a few feet away – a smile plastered all over her face.

"Made you almost _what_?" she asked, lowering her voice again. "Pimmy?"

"You know what."

"Why were you singing to the dead?"

"The talent show's tomorrow. I needed a sounding board."

"So you've _finally_ decided on a song?"

"Yes" he said proudly.

"You sound nothing like Barry White."

"Really?" He couldn't quite contain his disappointment.

"Afraid so. But you know, if you want an appreciative audience you could perform for _me_."

Jalmer swallowed hard as she batted her eyelashes at him and dropped her clothes.

"And if you do it just right", she purred as she sashayed towards him, "I'll ask for an encore."

* * *

**Author's note:**

Songs are - in case people are unfamiliar with the lyrics -

_Give it up_ – KC and the Sunshine Band

_Black or White_ – Michael Jackson

_Moving on Up_ – M People

_Sex machine_ – James Brown

_You're the first, my last, my everything_ – Barry White

All can be found on You Tube, among other places.

Nothing against talent shows, incidentally. And as always ... pinch of salt please.


	6. Into the groove i

**A/N:** It's official. McGee's muse has gone off at a tangent. Seriously. It now wants to write an arc - using the last installment as a springboard. We're going to assume that he has the flu and has been overdosing on cough syrup. Once it's over it will be back to oneshots. There's just no way all of the plot bunny can be developed in a oneshot. So the next three or four chapters will have the same title but be designated _i_, _ii_, _iii_, and _iv_.

Thanks for your patience. Please bear in mind that this is going to be _total_ crack!fic.

Rating will start off as K+ and pretty much end up as M by the end of the arc.

* * *

Tommy Di Amo was feeling decidedly surly. The theater was packed to capacity and everyone was looking decidedly competitive.

"Someone should have told me it was an _interagency_ talent show."

"I take it you didn't see the memo," came the Director's voice across the seats.

"What would you have done?" McGregor asked. "A striptease?"

"I'm a man of many talents," Tommy replied belligerently.

"_That _is a matter of opinion," Lisa said – her eyes running over him. "Honestly, what would you have shown them? Your sword?"

"His attitude," Tibbs contributed from his seat beside the Director.

"Lisa," a voice hissed. "Come on ..."

"Excuse me .." she said as she patted Tommy's cheek and slipped past him.

"_Where are you going?_ The show's about to start."

"You didn't think we'd let Pimmy go out there on his own, did you?" Amy said as she followed suit and joined Lisa and Li Michelin in the aisle.

"But Lisa can't sing to save her life" Tommy confided in the others as the girls hurried backstage.

"I am not putting them up there because of their vocal capabilities," the Director said with a knowing smile. "It's an all-male panel. I'm well acquainted with all of them, and lets just say their taste runs to eye candy."

"Is that why the BSIS budget has increa – _oww_. Shutting up now, Boss._"_

"_Now_, Di Amo?"

"What are our odds of winning, Director?" Ronald Gosling asked.

"Good. Very good. I've arranged for them to go on last."

"Very wise."

"I thought so," she acknowledged as the lights dimmed.

She allowed herself a small smile as she looked at the men surrounding her. They had no idea what was coming their way. She was only sorry she couldn't be up there with them herself.

* * *

Tommy let out a guffaw and then tried to stifle it as an ICE agent ended his _Napoleon Dynamite_ dance routine; and barely refrained from cheering along with everyone else.

"Ours is better than that, right? Director?" he said, when she looked pointedly at him.

"Our committee proposed that, among other things. I vetoed it."

"So ours is better .."

"_Di Amo,_" Tibbs said wearily. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could handle. "How much longer?" he asked Goose.

The Medical Examiner peered at the program.

"The FBI are up next," he said.

"Has anyone seen Agent Floorwell?" McGregor asked, looking round.

"He's probably too embarassed to show his face," Tommy said as seven members of the sister agency ran onto the stage wearing white trainers with blue duct tape stripes on them and practically got booed off the stage.

"Dear God," Gosling said – more to himself than anyone else. "Aren't they a bit old to be prancing about pretending to be the _Brady Bunch_?"

"Ours is better, right?" Tommy whispered again as it drew to a close.

"Yes," the Director whispered back. Only to follow his frozen stare as the curtain opened on the next group.

Five people sat around a large table. Four men and a woman; and there was no doubt who the woman was meant to be.

"_**I think we're done here," one of the men said.**_

"_**The hell we are! BSIS is conducting an investigation into a murder. This is our jurisdiction no matter which way you look at it. **__**And I can assure you, I will bring down the full weight of my service if ..."**_

_**A look of unadulterated lust passed over the men's faces.**_

"_**Don't make me smack that smile off your face, Fred."**_

"_**Oh you can smack me anywhere you like."**_

The audience laughed, and Tibbs looked over at his Director to find her watching with lips compressed in a hard line.

"_**Are you or are you not observing the railway station, Martin?" she said as she turned to an agency director who had CIA pinned to his suit. "And stop looking at my chest," she hissed.**_

"_**We may be observing the railway station" he said with a leer.**_

"_**That's a little vague."**_

"_**I can't tell you any more. You know that."**_

"_**Well, I hope we don't get in each other's way."**_

"_**Of course if your people find anything ..." another man said.**_

"_**You'll be the last to know" she said as she swept papers from the table and prepared to leave.**_

"_**That only works if you're at the top of the food chain, Gwen," one of the other directors called patronisingly after her.**_

_**She stopped in her tracks - and when she turned round her face was deadly serious.**_

"_**Don't underestimate me, Paul."**_

_**Hearing the threat in her tone he sat bolt upright.**_

"_**What do you mean?"**_

"_**I mean," she said as her gaze swept the table, "that I am going to instruct my agents to investigate any and all aspects of your private lives. NOTHING will be off limits!"**_

"Go BSIS!" someone in the audience shouted as the curtain dropped.

"You guys should be on _Saturday Night Live_" someone else called.

"Lets hear it for Army CID" the Master of Ceremonies said as the theater erupted in catcalls, hoots, and snickers.

Tibbs watched the Director lean forward in her seat and tap the shoulder of the man in front of her.

"Nice one Fred," she said. Her tone cool and dangerous.

"I had no idea they were doing that," he said. "I swear."

"Likely story," she muttered as she settled back into her seat.

"That how things usually go?" Tibbs leaned over and whispered.

"Why don't you ask me how much damage control I have to do at those meetings because of _you_?" she snapped back.

It didn't take much to figure out that there was more truth to the skit than she cared to admit.

"So .. ours is better, right?"

"Ask me that one more time, Di Amo, and I'll have you keelhauled."

"Whoa," McGregor said as people across the theater started to jump out of their seats.

"Show offs," Tommy spat as the agents in question joined forces on the stage for the penultimate act. Wearing dark suits and sunglasses, and brandishing all sorts of gadgets.

"At least they're poking fun at themselves," Goose pointed out as the theme from _Austin Powers_ started to play. "Rather unusual for the CIA, you have to admit."

"Jokers!" Tommy was saying, just as he heard the medical examiner add, "oh Lord, who let _him_ in?"

The music morphed seamlessly into the James Bond theme as Brent Fort stalked onto the stage. Two female agents wrapped themselves around him as the rest of the agents twirled around them in tight choreographed movements. A cell phone rang, and Fort held out his hand. The female on his right pulled it out of her cleavage and placed it in his hand.

"_**No" he said as the music dipped. "It's need to know, and he doesn't. He's an accountant. A bean counter. More interested in his numbers than my instincts."**_

"_**Is that so?"**_

_**The theater fell apart with laughter as the Director of the CIA stepped onto the stage.**_

"Son of a bitch," the Director swore under her breath.

"_Which one?_" Tibbs asked in confusion, pinning her hand to the armrest as she tried to rise from her seat. Sensing she was about to do something rash.

"It is specifically against the rules for Directors to be involved in any way," she said – anger radiating off her in waves.

"So what are you going to do? Go up there and make a scene?"

"More like upstage him," she said. So softly he almost didn't catch the words.

But as she spoke she brushed the collar of her coat – and suddenly he realised that she was wearing a coat identical to the one the other three women in their party were wearing. His eyes flickered downwards, but before he could query her about it the theater erupted in laughter again. He turned his head back to the stage in time to hear the Director of the CIA say, "_**utter one more syllable and I'll have you killed**_."

There was no denying the CIA had outdone everyone so far. Fort's rough gruff sex appeal seemed to have most of the women in the audience squirming in their seats, and the males in the audience were beside themselves in a mixture of pride and mirth. Despite himself, Tibbs smiled.

But the smile didn't last.

"Jareth .."

"Yeah?" he answered without pulling his eyes from the stockinged legs of the CIA agent to the left of Brent Fort.

"I think we have a problem."

He turned reluctantly to Gosling, and then followed his gaze over to the Director. Or rather, to where the Director should have been. He wasn't sure what it said about him that he hadn't sense her slip away, but one look at her retreating form told him that he needed to follow her.

Pronto.

* * *

**A/N2**: Yep .. am aware that the theme song from _Austin Powers_ is really called _Soul bossa Nova_ by Quincy Jones and that it was not written for the movie, but rather appeared in the early sixties. But I suspect more people know it as the _Austin Powers_ theme. Although I could be wrong.

**A/N3**: I couldn't resist the whole Bond / M thing – sorry. Borrowed rather blatantly from (if I remember correctly) _GoldenEye_ and _Casino Royale_.


	7. Into the groove ii

"Wow."

In the wings two CIA agents watched the backstage crew scramble to set up the backdrop.

"What the hell is _that_? A bar?"

"Looks like it. Maybe it's another skit. Check out the percussion," he added as colorfully-dressed performers took their place behind a variety of instruments.

"Guess the whole thing about misappropriation of funds at BSIS is tru-"

He found himself pressed up against the wall before he could finish his sentence.

"Have you ever had a paperclip inserted into your urethra?" a voice whispered menacingly into his ear.

The man struggled, his eyes growing wide.

"If I _ever_ hear you question my Director's integrity like that again I will personally demonstrate the eighteen different ways it can be done. And when I am through I will staple your family jewels to your thighs."

"That's _enough_!"

Lisa released her grip on the man quaking in her grasp, and he fell unceremoniously to the ground.

"Sorry Director," she said contritely - before leaning into the cowering man and wryly saying, "send me the dry cleaning bill."

The man looked at the wet spot at the front of his pants and groaned - before beating a hasty retreat.

"Director .." Amy said nervously. "I don't think this is going to work. Jalmer's got really bad stage fright."

"Where is he?"

"Here," Li said - moving aside to reveal a Pimmy Jalmer who had a definite tremble to him.

"Pimmy .."

"I can't do this Director," he mumbled. "I think I'm going to be sick."

The Director considered her options. Threats wouldn't cut it, she decided. Manipulation might.

Jalmer felt a spark of electricity sear through him as she placed a hand on his cheek and turned his face towards her. He'd never been so close to the Director before. Now she was in his personal space, and he wanted her to hug him.

"Pimmy," she said as she straightened the lapels of his red velvet jacket.

"Y-yes, Director?"

"What are you afraid of? Going out there or letting the agency down?"

"Letting _you_ down" he admitted shakily, mesmerized by her luminous eyes.

"That won't happen."

"What if I get booed at like the FBI?"

"You won't be. Trust me on this one. Pimmy," she added – noting the flush in his cheeks when she spoke his name. Knowing she could use that to her advantage. "You don't block out fear. You use it. You're going to harness it and then go out there and make it work for you. Make it work for _us_."

She ran her thumbs down his lapels one last time, and then patted them.

"Would it make you feel better if I came on with you?" she asked sweetly.

Jalmer looked stunned for a moment, but her eyes were too hypnotic.

"Yes .. _please_?" he whimpered.

The Director smiled, and was just about to pat him again when Tibbs' voice shattered all her illusions.

"You go out there and _Director_ won't be on your door much longer."

Everyone froze, but as she turned to say something scathing the Master of Ceremonies called out the agency name. Tibbs showed no sign of relinquishing his grasp on her, so when the girls looked to her the Director simply nodded sharply.

"Go!" she said.

Jalmer gave her one last lingering look, and stepped out into the bright lights with manly vigor when she smiled encouragingly at him.

Silence descended on the theater as the acoustics did the steady opening beat of the percussion proud.

Tibbs watched as Lisa and Amy dropped their coats. The Israeli's calypso outfit took him somewhat by surprise, and his eyes followed her as she took up residence behind the bar. But it was Amy who elicited the first reaction from the audience. The moment Jalmer opened his mouth and started to sing she stalked across the stage wearing the shortest dress he had ever seen. He wasn't sure it could even be termed a dress.

_**Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl.**_

_**With yellow feathers in her hair and a dress cut down to there.**_

_**She would merengue and do the cha-cha.**_

_**And while she tried to be a star, Tony always tended bar.**_

Even Tibbs had to admit that Jalmer's singing wasn't half bad.

"How's it going down?" the Director asked as she stretched past him and tried to sneak a peek at the audience.

"Inventive," a snarky voice said to their left. "But you do know we're going to beat you hands down, don't you?"

Director Ghepard shot the director of the CIA a look of utter disdain and didn't deign to respond. Instead she nodded at Li – who shed her coat and swaggered on to the stage to join her counterparts in a zoot suit and a panama hat.

_**His name was Rico, he wore a diamond.**_

_**He was escorted to his chair, he saw Lola dancin' there.**_

_**And when she finished, he called her over.**_

_**But Rico went a bit too far, Tony sailed across the bar.**_

Tibbs eyes widened as Lisa took a flying leap and tackled the other woman to the ground.

_**And then the punches flew and chairs were smashed in two**_.

The men in the audience went wild as the two women rolled around the floor, simulating a fight.

_**There was blood and a single gun shot**_

_**But just who shot who?**_

"Cheap theatricals," Martin Panettone hissed.

Gwen looked at him for a long moment, and when she spoke her voice made the hair on the back of Tibbs' neck.

"Watch my people bring the house down," she said in a deep and sultry tone.

The girls looked once into the wings, and then brushed up against Jalmer. Standing to one side of him they outstretched their arms and turned their backs on the audience. They swayed their upper bodies from side to side; rotating and lifting their shoulders in synchronous perfection. Looking over their shoulders as they delivered the chorus.

_**Copa ... Copacabana**_

_**Copa ... Copacabana**_

_**Copacabana …**_

_**Ahhhhhhhhhhh**_

As they sang they raised their arms over their heads and moved backwards inch by inch. Closer and closer to the edge of the stage, hips swaying provocatively.

_**Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh**_

_**Ahh ahh ahh ahh**_

_**A–a-a-a-a-a-hhhhhhhhhhhhhhh**_

Their voices rising in pitch with the music.

_**Copa …**_

_**Copacabana ..**_

_**Like in Havana.**_

_**Have a banana.**_

_**Music and passion.**_

_**Always the fash … shion**_.

As the tinny music reverberated in the theater they turned as one and unpinned their hair. Waves of darkness cascaded over their shoulders, driving the male contingent in the house to their feet. The atmosphere offstage crackled as they danced in time to the music. Rehearsed and seductive buttock-clenching movements that elicited begging. From her place in the center Amy Sutton looked once to her right and then once to her left.

_**Her name is Lola, she was a showgirl.**_

The other two shared the smile and brought their hands to the front of their costumes.

_**But that was 30 years ago, when they used to have a show.**_

In one deft rent the costumes fell apart.

And so did the audience.

As the trio continued to provide backing vocals for Jalmer, Tibbs thought his eyes might pop out of his head – along with those of every other male in the joint. The gossamer bodygloves shimmered under the bright stage lights. The star-shaped pasties they wore only served to drew attention to that particular part of them - and left very little to the imagination.

He caught sight of their stockings at the same time he caught his director's smug smile in his peripheral vision.

"Christ, Gwen," he said – his mouth running dry as something occurred to him. He gripped her by the elbow and pulled her to the side. "Tell me that's not what you're wearing under there."

For a moment he forgot all about the spectacle on stage; his mind filling instead with memories from a lifetime ago when the woman next to him had been his partner and more.

When she tried to extricate herself from his grasp he gripped her harder. She turned on him, eyes blazing.

"_What_ Jareth?"

"You always intended to go out there with them" he spat accusingly. "You couldn't care less about the rules. _That's_ why you wanted them to go on last."

"I wanted to be prepared" she hissed. "I was sure one of the others would pull a stunt, and I was right! I _anticipated_, Jareth. _You_ taught me that. Or have you forgotten?"

Tibbs closed his eyes against the visual. The teaching method he'd used for that particular rule hadn't exactly been conventional and she'd been more than responsive to his particular brand of instruction.

"_Excuse me_" a distinctly British voice said.

They sprang apart as Brent Fort stepped out of the shadows. From the smirk on his face it was clear he'd heard everything, but he simply looked Gwen in the eye and walked over to his own director.

Amy squealed as she rushed backstage.

"They clapped _really_ hard. I thought they'd never stop."

"Someone from the FBI tried to jump the stage," Li informed her boss. "McGregor stopped him."

"Do you think that we will win?" Lisa asked as she pulled her coat back on with complete calmness.

"We'll know soon enough," the Director replied.

But she was distracted by the sensation of someone watching her.

Brent Fort.

She met his gaze and felt nauseous. His smile chilled her to the bone. She couldn't tell what was on his mind – but whatever it was she was sure she needed to be on her guard.


	8. Into the groove iii

It was only Dr. Gosling's steady hand that kept Tommy from storming the stage.

"_What do you mean it's a tie_?" he shouted as he stood on his seat, half crazed with lust and outrage.

"Politics, dear boy," the medical examiner explained as he encouraged him to sit back down.

"We beat them hands down, Goose. We got the loudest applause," McGregor said.

"It _always_ comes down to politics, I'm afraid."

"_What?_" Tommy screeched as the Master of Ceremonies announced that it was a three-way tie. "Are you out of your f-"

"The FBI practically got booed off the stage," McGregor complained. "And now they're up there with us and the CIA?"

Goose shook his head before saying, "It's really the best we could have hoped for. Just be grateful we are not backstage right now," he added as he spared a thought for their Director.

* * *

Tibbs watched as Gwen Ghepard paced backstage. Out of the corner of his eye he saw someone approach, and instinctively moved to intercept. Only the person in question wasn't heading for the Director.

"Mint?"

He barely glanced at the woman next to him.

"Don't have any," he said curtly.

"I was asking if you _wanted_ one," the woman muttered as she pushed a packet under his nose. "It helps with the coffee breath."

Tibbs shook his head and moved slightly so that Gwen remained in his line of vision. Not trusting her for a second.

"You know, it was harder that I expected trying to look like her," the woman carried on. Obviously unwilling to take a hint.

Upon closer observation Tibbs realised who she was.

"Molly Hann," she said, holding out a hand this time. "Army CID."

"Uh – huh," he replied. "Tibbs. BS-"

"I know who you are," she interjected, looking him up and down. Smiling when his gaze flickered over her more intently.

"Tibbs!" Amy hissed.

He realised that in the few seconds he'd averted his gaze from Director she'd moved.

Again.

Only this time she hadn't gone far, and she stood huddled with heads of the CIA and the FBI. Brent Fort stood off to the side; observing the proceedings with beady eyes. Agent Floorwell of the FBI stood by his side. Looking supremely uncomfortable.

"Thaddeus," Tibbs said by way of greeting as he walked up to them. "Thought you'd had the good sense to stay away tonight."

"I did. I was out having ice cream with Amelia when Bags called me. I think this is gonna get ugly."

"_Ya think_, Thaddeus?"

The FBI agent ran a hand over his face.

"What do we do?"

"Nothing we _can do_," Tibbs replied.

"That's a matter of opinion," Brent said as a smug smile spread all over his face.

He stepped back when the directors moved towards them.

"What's going on?" Tibbs wanted to know as Gwen drew him to the side.

"It's a three-way tie, Jareth."

"I heard. So, what, a rematch?"

"At directorial level."

"Guess you're going to get your chance to perform after all," he said a little nastily. "Whatcha gonna do? Sing? Show your assets?"

She rolled her eyes at him.

"Still waiting to find out. We're - "

"Director!"

Amy sidled up to her, and Gwen's head snapped in the direction of the director of the CIA as she whispered something to her. He was listening intently to something Brent was telling him – and the smile that lit up his features matched the one on his sidekick's.

"I swear," Amy said when the Director looked at her in disbelief. "I can lipread really well, and that's what Brent Fort said."

"Apparently his boss is taking the suggestion and running with it," Tibbs said, as Martin Panettone clapped the Master of Ceremonies on the shoulder.

"I'll let them know and see what they think," they heard the man say before he scurried off to apprise the judges of the suggestion.

Moments later the announcement came over the speakers, and Gwen groaned and covered her eyes.

"What's the problem? Not as _limber_ as you used to be?"

"Get your mind out of the bedroom, Jareth! The _problem_ is _why_ they chose the limbo stick. That slimy - "

She was about to turn away from him when she felt the tickle of hot breath on her neck.

"This isn't going to end well for you," was all Brent said as he walked past.

By the time she opened her mouth to respond he'd disappeared into the auditorium; and from his spot nearest the curtain the MC was beckoning her over.

"Don't you think you're overdressed, Gwen?" the Director of the CIA called snidely to her as he removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves with gusto.

He whispered something to the Director of the FBI, and when the man positively leered at her Gwen shook with the strain of trying to maintain her professionalism.

"Gwen?" Tibbs asked.

"Give me your shirt."

"What?"

"Give me your shirt."

"Care to tell me why?"

She backed him into a corner and opened her coat wide.

"_This_ is why. That slimy bastard overheard us talking. I should have known he'd pull some kind of stunt."

Tibbs' breath caught in his throat when he realised that she was wearing the same kind of body glove as the other three women. He hadn't thought of anything but the stockings earlier. Now memories from a lifetime ago caught up with him again.

"Nothing you haven't seen before, Jareth. Now stop staring and _give me your goddamn shirt_."

Her voice was little more than a hiss, and when he failed to respond in a timely manner she shucked the jacket off his shoulders and went to work on his buttons.

Tibbs was fighting a losing battle as he tried not to look at her. Gwen stalked away; long silky legs shimmering beneath a shirt that barely covered her thighs. Her heels clicked on the wooden floor as she bypassed the stricken Directors, and she patted Martin Panettone on the face before preceding him onto the stage. The smile on her face broad as it became clear that she'd foiled him.

The wolf whistles were the first sign that the he wasn't the only one appreciating the view, but it was the voice of Molly Hann that brought Tibbs back to reality.

"So .. does your boss flash you often?" she asked as she popped a mint in his mouth. Pushing his chin up until his lips smacked together.

When he didn't answer she pulled a safety pin from her pocket.

"Call me sometime," she said as she pinned a piece of paper to his wife beater.

* * *

Tommy was practically foaming at the mouth as McGregor dragged him away from FBI Agent Don Bags.

"Say that to my face, Baggy!" he shouted over his shoulder.

"It's over, Tommy," McGregor said.

"It's not over. That wasn't a tie breaker."

"You're right," Bags said. "It wasn't a tie breaker, it was a farce."

"Although one is forced to admit that the only thing that _made it_ a farce was your half-naked Director," Brent Fort said condescendingly as he joined them.

"Lemme at 'im," Tommy said as he strained against his colleague.

McGregor heaved a sigh of relief as the medical examiner materialized at his side.

"What seems to be the problem?" the older man asked courteously.

"No problem," Bags said as he brushed past Di Amo's shoulder.

"Well that's good, because I was wondering whether you would like to join us for a small celebration," Gosling said. "At my house."

"You're celebrating a three-way win?" Brent asked. "How _mediocre_." Nevertheless he looked over at Bags and said, "I'm in."

"Me too. Hope you can hold your liquor, Di Amo, because we're going to settle this once and for all" he added with a punctilious stab of his finger.

"Bring it on" Tommy snarled.

"Goose?" McGregor asked as they walked away. Looking at him as though he'd betrayed his trust.

"We need to be gracious, Sean. Always gracious."

_I'll show them gracious_, Tommy thought to himself.

* * *

**A/N:** Here is a small refresher. A _**Dramatis Personae**_, if you will.

**For _BSIS_:**

LJ Tibbs = LJ Gibbs

Sean McGregor = Timothy McGee

Tommy Di Amo = Anthony Di Nozzo

Officer Lisa Sharon = Ziva David

Amy Sutton = Abby Sciuto

Ronald Gosling aka _Goose_ = Donald Mallard (Ducky)

Pimmy Jalmer = Jimmy Palmer

Gwen Ghepard = Jennifer Shepard

Li Michelin = Michele Lee

UnderSecretary Burgess = the equivalent of SecNav

**For the _CIA:_**

Martin Panettone = the Director

Brent Fort = Trent Kort

**For the _FBI_:**

Thaddeus Floorwell = Tobias Fornell

Don Bags = Ron Sacks

**For _Army CID_:**

Molly Hann = Hollis Mann

**A/N2:**

The crack!fic element of this story will increase exponentially in the next chapter.

Love to hear your reactions and thoughts - reviews really appreciated.


	9. Into the groove iv

Amy gripped the steering wheel hard as Li snapped her cell phone shut and relayed the message.

"_What?_"

"Hey, don't kill the messenger."

"Whose idea was this anyway?"

"Pimmy didn't say," Li said with a shrug.

"This is Tommy's doing," Lisa spat. "Only _he_ would think of such a thing."

"Pimmy thinks it's going to get ugly, and that we shouldn't be there."

"Do they think we cannot handle them?" Lisa said in disgust.

"Perhaps they're afraid we'll drink them under the table?" Li offered.

"Let them have their testosterone shindig." Amy chuckled dangerously as she turned the car in the direction of Dr. Gosling's house. "We'll teach them to exclude us in favor of a boy's club."

"You have a plan," Lisa surmised as they exchanged a look through the rear view mirror.

"Of course."

"What are we going to do?" Li asked incredulously. "Crash the party and strip?"

"That would be too good for them," Lisa muttered.

"So what are we going to do?"

"Make sure it gets ugly," Amy said, "and scar them for life."

* * *

"Ah, Jareth." Ronald Gosling looked up from a tray of canapes. "You arrived sooner than I thought you would. The Director all taken care of?"

"Yeah. Some fancy place with the other Directors. _Malenas? Falenas?_" He shrugged. "Marvin's on protection detail. I brought Thaddeus."

"Agent Floorwell," Gosling responded as the other agent nodded at him in greeting. "Was our lovely Director's mood much improved, Jareth?"

"Meh, she'll be fine," Tibbs said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"No doubt. The other Directors?"

"They're in a very public place," Floorwell said with a smile. "They'll behave."

"More than I can say for _this lot_," Gosling said with a nod towards the other room.

"What were you expecting, Goose?"

"Certainly not _this_," the medical examiner said with a smile as he reached into a cupboard and pulled out two decanters. "I was expecting them to at least _pretend_ they can get along. I must say I'm glad you've arrived."

"There a reason you're being so generous with the booze?" Tibbs asked as he looked at his drink a few moments later.

"Just how bad is it in there?" Floorwell followed up.

"Positively frigid. Bottoms up, gentlemen," Goose said as he picked up a drink and drank it. Before pouring himself another one and preceding them into the adjacent room.

He hadn't exaggerated. The atmosphere in the sitting room was distinctly chilly.

"Hey boss," Di Amo called happily. "Looks like you're outnumbered on _all_ fronts now, Fort," he added snidely as he caught sight of Agent Floorwell.

Brent Fort finished off his beer and tossed the empty bottle at him.

"Why don't you make yourself useful and get me a refill, Di Amo? The day I can't hold my own against four BSIS agents will be the day I retire. Oh wait … _three_ BSIS agents. The autopsy gremlin doesn't really count. No licence to kill. Only to _play_ with the dead. How's that working out for you these days, by the way?"

"Mr. Jalmer, why don't you help me in the kitchen for a moment?" Gosling intervened.

"Get Mr. Fort here his refill," Tommy said with a snarl as he placed the bottle firmly in Jalmer's hand, and then polished the rest of his. "Get us all a refill. He shouldn't be drinking alone."

"Are you keeping tabs on who drinks the most, Di Amo?"

As Tommy mumbled something, Floorwell looked at Tibbs.

"Whose bright idea was this again?"

Tibbs took another sip of his drink.

"Don't know. Don't wanna know."

"It's gonna be a long evening."

"Yeah."

* * *

The lock to the back door proved to be child's play to Lisa.

"It appears there is someone in the kitchen," she said as they slipped inside the house.

"Are you sure this will work?" Li asked nervously. "What if they see us?"

"I'll keep watch while you do the rest. Now _go!_"

Voices drifted along the corridor at her as the other two disappeared. She recognized them as belonging to Pimmy and Dr. Gosling, and relaxed fractionally.

"The beer's in the fridge," Gosling said as he placed a bottle opener and a tray on the kitchen table and busied himself with uncovering another tray of food.

"It was very nice of you to do this, Doctor."

"The least I could do, dear boy."

"But you had no idea we'd win. What if we'd lost?" He looked around the room at the stacked boxes of catered food.

The medical examiner patted him on the back on his way out of the kitchen.

"There was no doubt in my mind that you would do us proud."

Pimmy's smile lit up the room as he loaded the bottles onto the tray. He was about to lift it off the table when Gosling spoke again.

"Would you mind helping me carry the food in first?"

"Not at all, Doctor."

Amy slipped into the kitchen as soon as the door swung close behind them. She made quick work of separating the boxes of food, and peered inside. Looking for likely candidates.

"_Oh laxatives are a girl's best friend_," she sang happily to herself as she sprinkled the contents of a sachet at random. She was about to slip back out of the room when her eye fell on the beer bottles. She pulled a vial from her pocket – and put a few drops of liquid into each bottle.

_You're going to wish you'd never been born, _she thought to herself as she stoppered the vial and put it back in her pocket. Congratulating herself on always being prepared - even as she prayed that Tibbs would stick to the bourbon.

She left the scene of the crime not a moment too soon.

* * *

Brent Fort inclined his bottle in Tommy's direction.

"Down in one," he said with a smirk.

"What's the matter, Jalmer?" Bags asked when the yonger man looked relucant to participate. "Can't hold your liquor?"

Jalmer swiped the bottle off the tray and raised it to his lips seconds shy of the FBI agent.

"What the …" Donald Bags said as he pulled the bottle from his mouth and looked at it.

"Too much for you?" Fort asked as he put his empty bottle down.

Bags downed the rest of his beer.

McGregor licked his lips as he examined the bottle carefully; not about to ask any of the others if it had tasted _off_ to them as well, and too polite to ask the medical examiner if the beer had passed its expiration date.

It took all of two minutes for Abby's concoction to take effect – and it kicked in with the most inauspicious of signs.

Pimmy giggled.

"Can it," Tommy said as he elbowed him in the ribs.

Pimmy's giggles grew louder.

"When I was in kindergarten our teacher used to say _zip it, lock it, put it in your pocket_."

A look ran between Fort and Bags that made Tommy nervous.

"Do regale us with other stories from your childhood, Jalmer," Fort said as he leaned back into the sofa

"I went to school run by the Franciscan Friars," Pimmy said with a shrug. "Nothing very exciting happened."

"There has to be _something_ you can tell us."

"They did have a few crazy theories, I suppose."

"They had crazy theories? You really must share at least one."

Pimmy's head was spinning but he felt delightfully loose and emboldened. Totally unable to tell that Fort was mocking him.

"Well .. um ..."

"Cat got your tongue?" Fort said provocatively.

"They told us that masturbation causes hair to grow on your palms."

Thaddeus Floorwell choked on his whiskey.

"I trust you discovered you were being lied to sooner rather than later," Fort said derisively.

Pimmy's flamed red.

"I .. uh .. I don't .."

"98% of the adult population masturbate, Jalmer," Bags said with a roll of his eyes.

"That's it," Tommy said, slamming his hand down on the coffee table separating them.

"That's what?" McGregor asked, not liking where this was going at all. Clearly whatever had got to Jalmer had got to Tommy as well.

"Best technique wins the talent show."

"You can't be serious?" Fort said incredulously.

"You chicken?"

Fort looked at him, smiled, and then crossed his legs.

"Care to go first, Jalmer?" he asked smoothly. "You were the one who started this after all."

"You mean _demonstrate_?" Pimmy asked with trepidation.

"I doubt Dr. Gosling would appreciate you unleashing your _appendage_ in his sitting room," the Briton said with a slight shudder

"Then how ..."

"Describe it," Tommy said.

Pimmy's mind scrambled.

"I think I saw some zucchini in the fridge," he said suddenly.

Di Amo covered his face with his hands.

* * *

The poor man looked scared half to death.

"I really d-don't know about this."

Li crooked his finger at him.

"I just think you should know," she said sweetly, "that the one with curly hair is Mossad and has serious impulse issues, and the other one is a forensic scientist who can boil you from the inside out and not leave a trace. I would suggest you just let us take it."

"But it's due at a party in an hour."

Li slipped some money into his hand.

"Give them a refund," she said, nodding her head at Lisa who was cracking her fingers a few feet away. "Tell them it went to the wrong address. It won't be a lie."

The man gulped.

* * *

"I'm outta here," Tibbs said as Jalmer walked back from the kitchen.

"Not to put too fine a point on it, Jareth, you move one inch and I will shoot you," Goose said. "With your own gun."

"I need a refill," the agent growled. "Thaddeus?"

"Yeah," the man replied as he handed over his glass. "Fill 'er up."

By the time he turned back around, Jalmer had already moved the table and ensconced himself on the Persian rug. He was about to say something when his cell phone rang – making everybody jump slightly.

"Hello? MOM! No .. actually this is not a good time. Mom, I'm in the middle of .. no mom it's just ..". He lowered his voice to a whisper. "_Mom_ .. I'm giving a demonstration. No, it's … it's _classified_. Look, I'll call you later okay?"

He turned off the phone and tossed it as far away from him as it would go.

"Sorry" he said, bowing his head in shame.

"Can we get on with this some time this century?" Fort asked irritably.

Jalmer had just opened his mouth again when his face suddenly contorted. And looking at the others he wasn't the only one who had smelt it.

Tommy's eyes narrowed as several pairs of eyes settled on him.

"Why are you looking at _me_?"

"You do have a reputation for fouling enclosed spaces, Di Amo," Fort said.

"Name one," Tommy challenged.

"The elevator at BSIS."

Tommy was trying hard to think of something witty to say when another wave of cramps overtook him.

"Be right back," he said. The strain evident in his voice.

He hurried for the door – only to find himself being cut off by Agent Bags.

They stood sizing each other up for a moment.

"Get out of the way," Tommy said threateningly.

"Same to you."

"Don't mess with me, Baggy."

"How many times do we have to go over this. It's Bags. _Agent Bags_, to you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Um .. excuse me .."

Instinctively they opened up just enough to let McGregor through. Watching, agape, as he made his way down the corridor and let himself into the bathroom. Di Amo and Bags gave each other a look and hurried after him.

"Open up, McGregor," Bags said.

"Yeah … come on .." Tommy said. Clamping his legs together as another painful bowel movement struck. He rapped firmly on the door. "Open up!"

The squelching sounds he got as an answer were horrifying in their intensity.

"Come on McGregor. Don't make me break it down. Some support here ..." he said in irritation as he looked at Bags.

"McGregor!" the FBI agent bellowed as he slapped a palm against the door.

The sound of the toilet being flushed came through the door. Followed by the sound of water running in the sink. As the door cracked open, McGregor stood there looking pale and clammy.

"Do you think it was Fort?" he asked.

"He doesn't seem to be affected at all."

They all looked up into the face of Pimmy Jalmer.

"Bastard!" Di Amo and Bags muttered as they shot a look in the general direction of the living room.

Giving Jalmer just enough time to slip past them into the bathroom.

"Oh _come on_," Tommy said as he resumed banging on the door.

"So help me I'm gonna break this door down," Bags threatened as he followed suit. Grimacing when a squeaky emission of gas reverberated in the room.

"It's gonna take a while, guys," Jalmer shouted apologetically.

"Great!" Bags said as he leaned against the wall and scrunched his eyes shut.

"Listen, um, about what happened between us before ..." Tommy started.

Bags shrugged.

"No hard feelings. I get it."

"No. I was going to say I still pretty much hate your guts, Bags!"

"Me too, Di Amo! Me too." He turned his frustration back towards the door. "_Open up Jalmer!_"

* * *

"Well this is .. _nice_," Gosling said a short while later as the younger agents sat around looking morosely at each other.

"So what's the surprise?" Tommy asked disconsolately.

Supremely unhappy with the fact that his gut was still twinging sporadically. Fearful that another bathroom run was going to be in order very soon.

"I have no idea."

"Any idea who it was, Goose?" Tibbs asked as he looked at his watch. Wondering how much longer this was going to take.

"The person didn't say."

"Male or female?" Floorwell asked.

"Male."

"What _did_ he say, exactly?" McGregor wanted to know.

"That we were to expect a very special delivery."

"_We_?" Jalmer asked nervously. "You don't think it could be a bomb, do you? I mean .. there are a lot of special agents here. We're a prime target."

Fort sighed derisively, but the medical examiner was quick to intervene.

"I hardly think so, Mr. Jalmer. He didn't say _what_ the surprise was, but he did say who it was from."

"Pray tell," Fort said, as he too looked at his watch.

"Amy, Lisa, and Li."

"I thought you said Li was annoyed," McGregor said to Jalmer in confusion.

"She was."

"So why are they sending a gift?"

"Perhaps they had a change of heart?"

"Or perhaps they spiked the alcohol," Fort said with a stifled yawn, "and want to cover it up this way."

Di Amo's eyes widened.

"More likely _you_ spiked the alcohol," he spat.

"Contrary to popular belief, I am _not_ ubiquitous."

Tommy snorted, but was denied the opportunity of a come-back when the doorbell rang.

"I do believe we are about to find out what the surprise is," Dr Gosling said.

"I got it, Goose," Tibbs said.

The sound of the front door being opened up completely brought Gosling and Floorwell into the foyer.

"Pretty _big_ special delivery," Floorwell said as he watched two men wheel a huge trolley in.

"This is the kind of thing you see at bachelor parties," Tommy said appreciatively as he walked around the cake.

Jalmer came to stand by his side with eyes as wide as saucers.

"So you think think there's a stripper inside?"

"Hell yeah .." Tommy said. Making a mental note to thank Lisa profusely first chance he got.

"Do you think it's one of the girls inside?"

The smiled on Tommy's face faded fast. Clearly _that_ thought hadn't occurred to him

"They wouldn't … " he said. Casting Tibbs a nervous look.

"_They better not have_," his boss mumbled dangerously under his breath.

"Well there's clearly someone inside," Gosling said as he placed his ear to the cake. "The question is _who is it_?"

His question was answered milliseconds later as a figure burst through the top of the cake – arms stretched up over her head.

A very naked figure.

"Hello boys!" Gosling's great aunt said.

* * *

**Author's note:**

That concludes this arc. The next two parts are already written. It was a few lines in this that held up production, so look for an update later on in the week.


	10. Honey

**I do not own NCIS or any part thereof.

* * *

**

Special Agent Tommy DiAmo stood in front of the syrup and honey row at his local store. He liked maple syrup and lots of butter on his pancakes and waffles but Amy told him honey was a mild aphrodisiac so he thought he might give it a try.

There were so many of them; wild thyme honey, chestnut honey, clover honey, and, of course, the ever popular orange blossom honey. He should have asked Amy which one was the most powerful! There was honey from Tupelo, from Greece, from Israel…

Israel. Officer Lisa. Honey. Her golden skin. Honey colored.

Squinting, he looked at his choices again. Which one of these honeys would match her skin tone closest? Which would drip down her body and barely be discernible to the naked eye in a lamp-lit room? What honey would he have to trace with his tongue to be sure he followed its path along the entirely edible length of her?

He pulled the green hand-held shopping basket in front of him. He needed to start wearing looser pants. Maybe the honey was a bad idea. Obviously he didn't need an aphrodisiac with the problem he was having walking right now. He pulled a plastic bear-shaped container of orange blossom honey down from the shelf and put it in his carrier.

Turning away he thought about what to have for supper. He really wasn't in the mood for pancakes tonight. He strolled through the store and turned to watch as two teenaged girls walked by in tight pants, braless under their T-shirts. He smiled. Maybe he was growing up? He still liked to look at the young chickens but he wasn't interested in them as mating material.

Chicken! Yes, that's what he'd have - Chicken Marsala. He had the wine and the pasta; he just needed the main ingredient. Turning into the meat aisle he walked past the prepackaged offerings and decided none of them looked good enough for DiAmo's Chicken Marsala so he rang the bell for the butcher.

A tall, skinny guy wiping big hands on a blood-stained white cloth came to see what he wanted.

"Two big, plump chicken breasts please."

His voice trailed off after "breasts". Immediately he got a visual of Lisa's perky boobs, just plump enough to entice a man. What was it his father used to say, "more than a mouthful's a waste?" Lisa's were perfect and sometimes her little brown nipples got so hard it was like they were calling him by name. "Tommy, Tommy, come and suc…"

The skinny butcher was back. He held out a package with two well-developed chicken breasts and Tommy just nodded his thanks. He found it difficult to talk when his tight suit pants were cutting off the circulation to his favorite anatomical appendage. He needed to calm down. It was beginning to hurt! He stored the package in his basket and hurried away.

Think about McGregor in a red Speedo, he commanded himself. Think about Tibbs being able to read your every thought and how your head would hurt if he could. He ran those images through his mind trying to control his lascivious imagination.

On his way to the check out he went through produce and smelled something delicious and followed his nose until he found a display set up with fresh Georgia peaches. One had been sliced through and the two halves lay open on a little table. They lay there with their moist pale flesh on the outside surrounding the darker pink centers and all he could think of was Lisa laying on his bed, legs spread revealing her own sweet peachy center. He closed his eyes as he envisioned himself squeezing out the bear-shaped container's golden contents onto Lisa so the two kinds of honey would mix. Saw himself bending forward to take his first tas…

"Tommy?"

"Lisa?"

He'd almost walked into her, lost in his fantasy. She stood in front of the vegetable bins with a very large cucumber in her hand. Her basket had tipped over spilling its contents and he bent down and picked up a can of whipped cream and an unbreakable bottle of chocolate syrup. He put them back in her container and he could have sworn she was blushing. Certainly not meeting his eyes. And it looked suspiciously like there were two hard little bumps visible under the front of her shirt.

Slowly she looked at him and their eyes met. Now he was blushing too, dammit; he felt the burn in his face. In her nervousness she began to rub the cucumber up and down her leg.

"I did not know you shopped here, Tommy," she said.

"Me neither, Lisa," he said.

She seemed nervous and kept rubbing the cucumber up and down her thigh. Up and down the long length of her thigh. He couldn't look away. Finally he blinked and made himself jerk his eyes away from the cuke and Lisa's rubbing abilities. He saw she was looking at his mouth and licking her lips. For one second their eyes met and then they both quickly looked away.

She put the cucumber back with its brothers and then put her basket down on the counter too.

"I do not think I want to make dinner tonight. I think I will eat out," she said.

Taking a deep breath, he set his carrier on the counter.

"Yeah, me, too. I don't feel like cooking"

They walked out of the store side by side. As she drew near her car he spoke.

"Hey, Lisa, wanna go get something to eat? Since neither of us feels like cooking, seems like."

Her smile seemed grateful.

"Sure, Tommy. Where did you have in mind?"

In his head the little naughty thoughts began whirling again.

"I been wanting to try the new pancake house over on 12th. Wanna go there?"

He opened the door of his car for her and watched her slide in.

"And I'm going to have honey on my pancakes this time, too. Amy told me it was 'healthier'."


	11. The silk stockings caper i

The two young women sat on a bench in the booking area. Both brunettes, both in tight revealing clothes, both refusing to look him in the eyes.

L.J. Tibbs narrowed his blue orbs at his forensic scientist and his Mossad liaison officer.

"Get up," he demanded.

Amy Sutton jerked at the sound of his voice.

"Tibbs!" She squealed."I mean, Tibbs," lowering her voice a decibel or two. "We…uh, we're glad to see you aren't we, Lisa?"

She punched her companion on the shoulder.

Lisa Sharon looked up and then quickly down again. They'd had to call Tibbs to come down before the police would release them - into his custody. She knew he would be extremely angry and his anger would fall mostly on her because Amy, the instigator of the whole disastrous evening, was his favorite and never got head slapped. So she, Lisa, would bear the brunt of his anger and then as the frosting on the cupcake she would have to put up with her partner, Agent Tommy, giving her excrement about it for days.

She got up slowly, still without meeting her boss' eyes. He moved to the side, his ever present cup of coffee in his right hand, and motioned with his left for them to precede him. Amy and Lisa, heads bowed, walked like prisoners traveling death row to face the deadly needle.

Amy turned to face Tibbs, her mouth open. He glared and she shut her mouth. He pointed toward the exit and followed them all the way to his car where he opened the back door and when Amy would have gone around and gotten in the shotgun seat he cleared his throat and she came back and climbed in beside Lisa.

They rode in silence until Tibbs stopped at a gas station to fill up.

While he was out of the car Amy grabbed Lisa's arm and started whispering rapidly.

"Lisa, we gotta do something. I don't want my first ever head slap. We got to find a way to get out of what he's planning for us.

The Israeli pulled away.

"This is all your fault, Amy. You and your 'let's party til the cows come home.' Cows do not even party. Why I let you talk me int…"

Amy grabbed her and shook her and Lisa had a hard time refraining from a violent reaction.

"I got it! I got it!!!" She shouted causing Tibbs to look up from the gas pump.

Her eyes got big and she let go of Lisa.

"Stockings, Lisa." she whispered.

Lisa frowned. "What?"

"The other day in the lab, Tibbs got all hot and bothered when the stockings that were hanging around brushed against him. Tommy noticed it and once he mentioned it, I did too. Tomorrow, if we survive the ride tonight, wear silk stockings to work with a short skirt. We can distract him long enough for him to get pissed off at Tommy or McGregor or the Director and forget about us."

Lisa continued to frown.

"Still, silk stockings?"

Amy's eyes widened and she got what Lisa liked to call her "crazy look;" her most dangerous look.

"It will work, I tell you. We just gotta distract him and I'm sure Tommy will screw up and made him mad by the end of the day and he'll forget all about us. After all he has a soft spot for his girls, especially me."

She smiled, showing off her dimples.

Just then the car tilted slightly as Tibbs got back in and turned around in his seat to face them.

"You both better be into work bright and early tomorrow morning. Your cars are still at the bar so I am guessing you'll need to call your coworkers and beg for a ride or take the bus. I don't give a damn which you do just be there by the time I get in, understood?"

"Yes, Tibbs," they chorused in little girl voices.

He pulled up in front of Amy's apartment complex first.

"Out," he ordered.

As she crawled out she grabbed Lisa's hand and tugged, squeezing tight when Lisa tried to pull away.

"Lisa's going to stay the night with me, Tibbs. We'll both catch a ride with McGregor in the morning," she said.

He glared over the seat.

"If that is okay with you?" Lisa added.

He nodded. They closed the car door. He left, squealing tires protesting, or at least the two on the road protesting, the whole way.

"What do you think you are doing, Amy?" Lisa demanded.

"Putting our plan in action. You know you don't have silk stockings and garter belts at your house but I got plenty of 'em. C'mon, we got to get upstairs and try on some outfits. They have to be perfect for the silk stockings caper to save our asses!"

"You actually think Tibbs would hit us there instead of our heads?"

"I don't know. He's threatened it before and I don't want to find out. C'mon!"


	12. The silk stockings caper ii

Special Agent McGregor stopped his Mercedes outside forensic specialist Amy Sutton's apartment complex. It wasn't the first time he'd had to come by and pick up Amy when her car had been left at a bar but it was the first time he'd heard Lisa Sharon's voice in the background when Amy called to ask the favor. He dreaded hearing Tommy's speculations concerning their sleeping arrangements again. Every time the two girls got together without their teammates Tommy's more salacious imagination took control and McGregor had to listen to his fantasies for the entire day when Lisa wasn't around (and sometimes when she was – Tommy risking dismemberment and death for the sheer pleasure of teasing his partner).

Sighing, he made his way to Amy's and knocked. Officer Lisa opened the door and McGregor felt his mouth drop open. She was dressed in a black skirt at least 8 inches above her knees. Her hair was loose and wild around her shoulders. Her teal blouse was low cut and showed a large expanse of honeyed skin and most of the small amount of cleavage she possessed. When she smiled at him he noticed she had on dark pink lipstick and lots of eye makeup, almost as much as Amy usually wore. She looked good! She smiled.

"Amy," she called, "McGregor is here."

"Oh my god," he breathed reverently when she appeared.

She stood before him a vision of Gothic beauty, her hair coiled in two little buns on either side of the top of her head. She wore a deep red tube top covered in a lacy black top ending under her breasts, emphasizing their fullness rather like a bolero jacket. He sometimes forgot how buxom she really was. The red top ended an inch or so above the low slung waistband of a black and red checked miniskirt barely covering the tops of her…hose? Amy was wearing stockings, black silky-looking stockings and at the very top of them he saw lacy red straps – the garter belt? Her legs seemed to go on forever.

Suddenly he gasped. He had forgotten to breath. He didn't think he had ever wanted her more than he did right this minute.

She broke the spell by grabbing his hand and tugging him out the door.

"Hurry, Lisa. We got to be there when Tibbs arrives!"

McGregor knew his mouth was still hanging open as Amy pulled and Lisa pushed him to his car. He came to himself in time to open the doors on the passenger side. He didn't see Lisa climb in. His eyes were all for Amy as she bent those long, long legs and sat in the car. As she turned to put her first leg in the tiny skirt hiked up and he saw…he saw the naked flesh above the top of the hose; the skin between the top of the hose and her red panties. He felt a burgeoning in his loins

After Amy settled in the car he slammed the door and leaned against the top of the car taking a moment to regain control. Then he slammed Lisa's door too, not missing the smirk she sent his way. As he settled behind the wheel he glanced at Amy. The skirt barely came to the tops of the stockings. He wanted to touch that silken material and the exposed skin above. He actually reached out and then the iron will that had driven him to be the successful agent he was came into play and he turned the key and started the car.

It was going to be a long damned drive to the office.

* * *

Special Agent Tommy sat at his desk ripping a piece of paper into shreds he could make into spitballs to shoot at his partner's head. He loved seeing the white wads shine in that dark mane. And he especially loved seeing her mad face. She was just so darned cute when she was mad. Dangerous yes but cute as a bug in a rug. Even when she threatened him with bodily harm she was cute. And hot. She was really hot when she threatened him. Oh yeah. He tore some more strips of paper.

The elevator dinged and he looked up and stopped tearing the paper. His partner, the lovely Officer Lisa, ran into the room her stride hobbled by the tight and very short skirt she wore. She threw her backpack at her desk and came to stand in front of him, bent over, bringing her face near his.

He didn't look at her face, though. When she bent over the low-cut top fell away from her chest and he could see down to the lacy pink bra barely covering her nipples. He gulped.

"Is Tibbs here yet?"

Tommy didn't say anything. He didn't really understand what she'd said. He just kept his eyes glued down her shirt, hoping for a slight shift in the material so he could see some delectable little nibblers. Please, he prayed.

Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his upper arm.

Lisa drew her fist back to hit him again.

"I said, Tommy, is Tibbs here yet?"

She stood up and he blinked and could talk again.

"No, no. He's not here yet. You look really good today, Lisa."

She smiled and patted his cheek, leaning in close again. He couldn't keep his eyes from straying down her blouse one more time.

"Thanks Tommy," she said and tweaked the end of his nose.

"Hey, that hurt,' he complained.

"Good," she said, turned and sashayed back to her desk.

He watched her ass sway from side to side and noticed she wore very high heels today. And…was she was wearing stockings? Lisa never wore stockings. Yet, there was a shimmer to her legs and a little whisk, whisk sound when she walked.

As she sat he jumped up and almost ran to her desk. Perching on the filing cabinet behind her he leaned into her space and whispered in her ear.

"What's the special occasion, Lisa? All dressed up. Stockings, silk if I'm not mistaken. Got a hot date?"

Like he'd hoped she turned toward him and he could see the short skirt had ridden up her thighs. Glancing down quickly he thought he caught a glimpse, the barest hint of a pink garter clasp holding up the one stocking top he could see. Smiling he leaned in putting his arm in front of her, his hand on the desk preventing her from moving away from him.

"Or looking for a hot date?"

She pushed up, getting close to his face and he felt like he could almost taste her lips. Then she plopped down only millimeters from his fingers and propped her right foot up on her chair the skirt riding evening higher and he caught a glimpse of naked thigh above the stocking top. The difference in texture between the thicker top of the piece of hosiery and her burnished skin made the urge to touch almost uncontrollable. His hand moved of its own accord and he ran a single finger a couple of inches up her thigh and she made a guttural sound, deep in her throat. It emboldened him to add a second finger.

They both moved their faces closer until he felt her breath on his lips. He put his whole hand on the top of the stocking and parted his lips in anticipation of the only logical next move.

His phone rang and he jerked his hand away from her like she was on fire.

"Yeah!" he growled into the phone, quickly changing his tune when he heard the always angry tone of his boss' voice.

"Okay, yeah, Boss. Got it. Yeah, she's right here. We're on it."

He closed the cell phone and looked longingly at Lisa still sitting on her desk with her skirt rucked up revealing those lovely silk-encased legs.

"Gear up," he said sadly.

* * *

**A/N**: The last part of this will be posted on Friday morning, so stay tuned!


	13. The silk stockings caper iii

Moving briskly from work station to work station Amy turned on her babies. McGregor noticed every time she stopped her very short skirt flipped up in the back and he got a glance of the top of her hose, a red garter clasp and the slender strip of naked skin he had begun to crave uncontrollably. He prided himself on his self control but he felt it diminishing with each flip of that red and black miniskirt. He wanted Amy everyday but today, today the want was fierce. It was those damned black silk stockings. Had to be.

Amy went to the work table and set up a beaker and a Bunsen burner. Then she got a small specimen jar out of the refrigerator unit. She transferred a small amount of material from the jar to the beaker and then set it up over the burner. In the meantime McGregor had moved up behind her, close behind her, so when she turned around he was right there; close enough to lick her. He put his hands palms down on the table to either side of her.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm getting close to you, Amy."

"I see that. Why?"

"You know why, Amy."

Suddenly she got a smile on her face.

"No, tell me why."

"You know why. You always know why."

He leaned in and kissed her. Hard. After a moment, she kissed him back. Hard. He put his hands on her hips and lifted her up, sitting her on the table. Still kissing her he put his hands of her upper thighs, pushing the skirt out of the way and moved up over the smooth, cool material until he could touch the exposed softness. Touching her like he'd been imagining since his first sight of her this morning; the soft skin above the silk warm and pliant to his fingertips.

Amy moaned and lay back on the table, thrusting her pelvis up and McGregor bent over her, thumbs now caressing the lacy edge of her panties.

"Oh, McGregor," she moaned and threw her arms out to the side, hitting the Bunsen burner and knocking it over. It fell into the waste bin next to the table. Neither one of them noticed as McGregor lowered his body over hers, kissing her again.

After a minute or so of intense kissing, Amy grabbed his hair and pulled his head back, an audible pop as his lips broke loose from hers.

"Do you smell smoke?" she asked.

Then the fire alarm went off and the sprinklers cut loose.

"Oh shit," Amy said.

* * *

Tommy let Lisa drive without a fight even though he held onto the "oh my god" handle the whole way. He figured it was worth it just to see the way her skirt hiked up as she drove. He kept glimpsing her lacy pink panties. And he got a really good view of the garter straps holding up her hose. There was an expanse of about 2 inches of skin between the tops of the hose and her panties. He concentrated on the exposed skin and the panties and of course the enticing stockings rather than paying attention to how many drivers Lisa left cursing in her wake. And he definitely kept his eyes open rather than screwing them tightly closed as was his wont when Lisa drove. He didn't realize the car had stopped until Lisa opened her door and swung her legs out, removing the delightful sight from his eyes. He sighed and stepped out himself.

Lisa was already at the door knocking. Tommy took time to notice the view while trying to calm his raging libido. A deck ran the whole side of the house overlooking a steep incline of several feet ending in a stream below. Pretty snazzy digs for a gunnery sergeant, he thought, makes Tibbs' simple little house look low rent for damned sure. Guess that's the difference between an honest ex-gunny and a dishonest active one.

"No one is answering, Tommy," Lisa said as she turned to him. "Kick in the door."

"Whoa, Lisa. Let's look for a key first, okay? The last time I kicked in a door the director made me pay for it. She got tired of all the complaints."

They both looked around under flower pots and pieces of black wrought iron furniture but found nothing. Tommy did have a good time watching Lisa either bend over or squat, both offering excellent views to his way of thinking. He kept edging closer to her as she became absorbed in her search. She stood up in front of him and he straightened quickly and pretended to be scoping out the place so she wouldn't know how close he'd been. As he looked around he happened to glance at the second story.

"Hey**, **Lisa, an open window. Looks like an invitation to me," he said and smiled at her.

She smiled back and kicked off her shoes, hiked up her skirt and told him to bend down. When he felt her silk-clad thighs tighten around his neck he stood up and headed for the slanted roof leading up to the open window. It took them very near the edge of the deck. As he drew near where Lisa would need to start reaching for the overhang the muscles of her thighs clenched and he couldn't help it. He moved his head from side to side, feeling the smoothness of the silk flowing past his cheeks. He closed his eyes to better concentrate on the exquisite eroticism of that touch.

"Tommy, pay attention. You're getting too close to the…"

He stepped off into nothingness taking Lisa with him. Somehow he kept his hold on Lisa as they hit once, twice and then sprawled on an outcropping of muddy earth. His partner had somehow gotten twisted around and now she sat on his chest facing him, her thighs still on either side of his head but now her pink panty-covered mound was right there at his mouth and warm naked skin rubbed his cheeks.

Tommy sent a special prayer of thanks wafting upwards and began to slowly turn his head from side to side touching his lips to the delectable inside of Lisa's thighs as he did so.

Maybe they had died and he was in Heaven?

"Ouch," Lisa said from her place on his chest.

She leaned back a little and pushed her hair out of her face. "Tommy, stop it. Your beard is putting little pricks in Amy's stockings."

He didn't stop but he did smile. Little pricks, eh?

"Tommy, you need to stop. You need to st…"

She squirmed a little closer to his chin.

"Oh, Tommy…"

He smiled again and moved his hands to the outside of her upper legs and rubbed the silk in time to the movements of his head. She wriggled and moaned.

Then they fell into nothingness again as the dirt they lay on slid out from under them and they landed in the cold water below. This time Lisa disconnected and landed next to him. As they lay there side by side their asses freezing he heard a laugh high overhead.

"Hey NCIS, you guys the friggin' A team?"

Then a car started and he heard it drive away.

He felt a sharp pain in his abdomen as Lisa gave him an elbow. He splashed her in retaliation.

"You have to pay Amy for these stockings, Tommy. They were silk."

Sitting up he looked down at her legs. The hose were ripped and muddy and had runs going from toes to thigh. One of the garter clasps was broken off. In despair he held his head in his hands already feeling the slaps.

Tibbs was going to kill him.

"Oh shit," he said.

* * *

Tibbs looked down at his team sitting in the bullpen. Lisa and Tommy had on NCIS sweats and Amy and McGregor wore the orange coveralls used in the lab. Lisa's hair was a wild mane around her head, out of control. Amy's pigtails hung limply, stray wisps sticking to the side of her face. DiAmo's usual well-coiffed look now looked like it had been styled by a leaf blower. McGregor was the only one not having a bad hair day.

Coming down the stairs Tibbs gave each one of his team a glare.

"Listen up!"

Tommy jerked and McGregor tightened his jaw. Amy squealed and Lisa scowled.

"If it were up to me the lot of you'd be suspended, or at least stuck on desk duty for a month."

He was greeted with a trio of moans.

"That includes you, Amy," he growled. "Especially you. I know it was your idea last night and that you're the one who hit the arresting officer."

Lisa put her hands over her face and DiAmo and McGregor had identical smirks on their faces. The Gothic beauty just gave her silver-haired fox the evil eye.

"But the director has intervened on your behalf. Today is Wednesday. For the rest of the week, DiAmo, Sharon and McGregor are on desk duty, reviewing cold cases. Silently. You may only leave your desks for bathroom breaks. You, especially, DiAmo, and if I see one spitball or eraser fly across the room you'll be on desk duty for a month. Sutton, you're going to be up here with them, going over paperwork for the forensic evidence from the cold cases they're reviewing. You will not be allowed in your lab until Monday."

They all started speaking, loudly, at once.

"Shut up! One more word and you'll be desk bound all next week too."

Absolute silence greeted his words. Nodding in satisfaction Tibbs made his way to the elevator, no doubt looking for yet another cup of coffee. As Lisa and Abby walked away the shorter brunette shoved her friend.

"I told you it would not work. Tibbs never even saw the stockings and Tony ruined them as well as my entire outfit and got mud in my hair on top of that. And now I'm on desk duty for the next two days with him. It was a very bad idea, Amy."

Amy nodded glumly.

"You're right, Lisa. It was a very bad idea. It's just as well I won't be in the lab for a few days. The cleaning crew won't be done for at least 24 hours and all my babies have to dry out before I try to start them up again. A damned bad idea. And I gotta buy some new black stockings. I hate it when one of my plans doesn't work. Dammit."

Tommy looked at McGregor puzzled.

"Lisa wore the hose for Tibbs?"

McGregor frowned, and then his brow unfurrowed.

"To distract him from being mad at them! Sneaky, brilliant BUT you caught the wrong prey!"

He turned to his female teammates and said acidly.

"Thanks for bringing us down with you, girls!"

"Yeah," Tommy said, pouting.

Meanwhile at the elevator Tibbs overheard the short exchange between his team. He thought of Amy and Lisa in short skirts and silk stockings. He imagined it and mourned the fact that he'd missed the opportunity. The two bozos on the team had ruined the girls' plan to "distract" him and so he'd lost the chance to see the two sets of long, lovely, silk-encased legs.

He banged his head against the steel doors just before they opened.

"Oh shit," he said sadly.

* * *

**A/N:** This concludes the silk stockings caper. Next up ... a romantic entanglement for Tibbs.


	14. It's raining women i

"And they say you can't teach an old dog new tricks," she said with a laugh as she slid off him and curled into his side.

Tibbs smiled in the darkness and pressed a kiss to her temple. Content to let her believe that he'd never let a woman be on top before tonight. Certainly not about to intimate that he'd had a previous lover who blew her out of the water in the _adventurous_ department.

He'd learned that one the hard way.

"Jareth .." she whispered after a while as she toyed with the hair on his chest.

"Mhmm?" He could feel a conversation coming on.

"When are you going to tell them?" She propped herself up on an elbow and swatted his chest. "Hey ... are you rolling your eyes?"

She leaned over him and snapped the bedside light on.

"You have no intention of telling them, do you?" There was a hint of accusation in her voice, and Tibbs ran a hand across his face and tried not to sound as irritated as he felt.

"It's called a private life for a reason, Mol," he said as he reached out and switched the light off.

"Don't dismiss me, Jareth," she said as she reached across and switched the light on again.

"Not dismissing you. Just telling you that you don't want DiAmo all over this. Over .."

"_Us?_" she suggested almost shyly.

"Yeah," he conceded as he tugged at the lamp's cord. Grasping her wrist when she made another move towards it. "_Leave it_" he said gruffly. Hoping she understood that he meant the light as much as the topic of conversation.

Clearly he was out of luck.

"I want them to know, Jareth."

"Why?"

"I want my status."

"_Status_?" He almost choked on the words.

"I want your Director and your team to know that we're seeing each other. I want it to be official."

"Not Goose?"

"Goose already knows," she said as she went back to twirling chest hair round her fingers.

Tibbs shook his head and exhaled as soundlessly as he could manage.

"Promise me you'll at least think about it," she said as her fingers snuck lower.

* * *

_**Three weeks later ...**_

McGregor's cell phone rang as he was pulling the back door to the van open.

"McGregor," he said into it. Balancing the device between cheek and shoulder as he pulled a crime scene bag from the van. "Eh, no. Nothing yet. Yeah. I'll call you if I see something."

"Is Amy still driving you up the halls about Tibbs and Colonel Han?" Lisa asked as she adjusted the camera strap around her neck.

"It's walls, Lisa," Tommy corrected. "But in answer to your question, yes. She is. Our forensic scientist is running a pool at my behest, and McCapable here is point man in this very delicate mission." He slapped him on the shoulder amicably.

"Why is Amy running the pool?"

"Because if Tibbs found out -"

"If Tibbs found out _what?_"

"Boss .. didn't see you there." Tommy cringed.

"Found out _what_, Di Amo?"

"Found out that the Director is planning to have the awards ceremony without giving you prior notice so that you won't have a chance to - oww."

"The rule is _always be specific when you lie_, not spin a tale that's bigger than you," Tibbs said as he took something from the van and headed back towards the house.

Molly Han waited at the entrance, and the team watched in fascinated silence as Tibbs placed a hand to the small of her back and ushered her inside.

"Oh yeah," Tommy said with a leer. "They are _so_ doin' it."

"Perhaps she will his next ex-wife," Lisa said as she side-stepped her colleagues and started to walk up the path.

Ten minutes later they were hard at work when someone appeared in the doorway.

"Colonel, Jareth .."

"Doctor .." Colonel Han responded. Hovering next to him as he knelt down beside the body. "What can you tell me?"

"You do realise I arrived about a minute ago?"

Molly held up her hands and backed off with a smile.

"I'll take the time of death whenever you have it, Dr. Gosling."

"Righto."

"Agent DiAmo .. review the witness statements."

"Yes boss. Ma'am. Uh .. Colonel."

"Lisa ..."

"I will check Captain Reyner's phone and bank records."

"Agent McGregor, see if you can .."

"Pull some prints off the back door? On it."

She turned to Tibbs with a look of awe on her face.

"I teach them to anticipate," he said with a proud smile.

"Time of death falls somewhere between seven and nine pm," Gosling called, shattering the moment.

"Thank you, Doctor. Shall we ... check the perimeter?" she said to Tibbs.

"Oh is that what we're calling it now," Gosling muttered to himself with a smile as he watched them leave the room.

"Did you say something, Doctor?" Pimmy asked.

"Ah .. no. Back to work, Mr. Jalmer. Lets see if we can't get some answers."

McGregor was assessing the back door when his phone went off again.

"_Amy, will you stop calling?_" he whispered into the phone. "I don't know. I can't tell. They're just standing there .. talking. No, I _don't know_ what they're talking about. Look, I promise I will call you the mo-"

He broke off suddenly as he caught something in his periperhal vision.

His instincts kicked in.

"Boss ..." he shouted as as he threw himself at the two people standing a few feet away from him. Scrambling to his feet immediately and taking off in pursuit of someone – with Tibbs hot on his heels as soon as he'd picked himself off the ground.

* * *

_**BSIS Headquarters, later that afternoon …**_

"Until we get to the bottom of this nobody is going anywhere. _And that includes you, Agent Tibbs_," Director Ghepard said as she looked pointedly at him.

"Nothing to suggest I was the target, Gwen," he shot back.

"Somehow I doubt Colonel Han has ruffled as many feather as you over the years," came the disdainful response.

"What are you suggesting, Director?" Molly asked politely.

"I'm calling in a favor."

"A favor?" Tibbs didn't like the sound of that one bit.

"Got a problem with that, Jareth?"

"Only if you get in the way of my investigation," Tibbs replied as Thaddeus Floorwell walked up to the group.

"It is not your investigation," Gwen enunciated slowly. "Effective immediately, you and Colonel Han are being placed into the protective custody of the FBI. Agent Floorwell will be conducting the investigation which I will _personally_ be overseeing. This is not open to discussion, Tibbs," she added as he opened his mouth to protest.

"Uh .. Boss? I think this might be someone for you?"

All heads turned in direction of Tommy – who indicated an argumentative redhead being escorted towards their desks.

Tibbs looked at the new arrival through narrowed eyes.

"_You know her?_" Molly hissed as she watched him draw himself up to his full height.

"_Was married to 'er_," he hissed back.

The redhead advanced. Walking slowly until she stood toe to toe with him.

"We need to talk."

"We can talk right here."

"I don't bite, Jareth. Well .. not anymore," she added when he raised an eyebrow at her.

"What do you want, Ginger?"

"Want? I don't want anything. I do, however, want to _give you_ something."

"And what's that?"

"A warning."

Four guns rose simultaneously.

"It isn't me you have to worry about," she said as she waved them off with a dismissive gesture. "It's everyone else."

"Everyone else?" The Director asked.

Ginger angled her head and looked straight at her. A small smile played upon her lips, but she turned back to Tibbs before continuing.

"You've pissed off a lot of women, Jareth. They're baying for your blood. Quite literally, I might add."

"And you know this _how_?"

The redhead smiled again. "Because they asked me if I wanted to be part of it."

"Part of what?" Molly asked, moving a little closer to Tibbs.

Ginger sighed and looked at her nails for a long beat.

"Two days ago, six dysphoric -"

"Don't start with the big words," Tibbs growled.

Ginger ignored him and started over.

"Two days ago six disgruntled women showed up at my door."

She looked round, waiting for everyone to connect the dots.

"Six women .." Molly clarified.

Ginger rolled her eyes impatiently.

"You _do_ all know that Jareth has been married _seven times_? Oh boy," she added when several pairs of eyes went wide.

Molly's brow creased immediately. "So these six women were ..."

Floorwell groaned, cutting her off.

"Was ..."

"Sawyer with them?" Ginger anticipated. "Afraid so."

"_Sawyer?_" Molly whispered to Tibbs.

"Second wife. Married Floorwell after we got divorced."

Molly's eyes had grown to the size of saucers by the time the Director intervened. Clearly she was having trouble reining in her amusement.

"So what you're saying is that Jareth's ex-wives asked you to -"

"What I'm saying is that Jareth's ex-wives have pooled their resources and hired a hitman. And I wouldn't smile too broadly if I were you, Madam Director. Numbers two and three have you in their sights as well. Two says you seduced him away from her, three says he was on the rebound when he married her."

A squeak from DiAmo earned him a glare.

"Is this the same number two who married Floorwell?" Molly whispered to Tibbs.

"Yeah."

"Is she still married to him?"

"Nah."

"I guess that answers the question of who the target was this morning, huh Boss?" DiAmo said. Taking a step back when Tibbs raised his hand threateningly.

"So what now?" Molly asked, taking a step closer to Tibbs.

"We relieve Agent Floorwell of his obligation," Director Ghepard said, "and call in Agent Bags." DiAmo's groan reverberated in the bullpen. "Agent Floorwell .."

The man nodded as he pulled out his cell phone. He looked as though he'd aged ten years in as many minutes.

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?" Amy asked Ginger.

"Sure." She had the smile of a woman who was enjoying herself immensely, and the smile grew a bit wider when she heard the question.

"If Tibbs managed to piss all of his ex-wives off so much that they want to kill him, why didn't you join them?"

Ginger patently ignored the look that Tibbs flashed her.

"I have no interest in seeing Jareth offed," she said as she reached out and curled her fingers around one of his lapels. "I was rather fond of him. The _off with the old and on with the new_ approach didn't apply. Because he didn't leave me. I left him. _For a woman_," she tossed over her shoulder as she turned to leave. Pulling Tibbs behind her by his jacket. "Walk me out," she said.

Tibbs followed, but she waited until they were out of earshot before she talked again.

"I wasn't joking about Sawyer and Bethany," she said as she pressed the call button.

Tibbs nodded.

"Is that your new squeeze?" she asked, looking over towards Molly. "Leaving redheads behind?" When he didn't answer she smoothed his lapel. "Make sure number six doesn't realise. Despite wanting you dead she still has it bad for you." The elevator doors slid open. "Take care of yourself, Jareth," she said as she stepped inside and turned to face him. "I'm going to St. Kits tomorrow afternoon. Don't make me come back for your funeral."

Tibbs watched the doors close and took a deep breath before walking back to the group of people huddled inbetween stations.

"Bring 'em in," he said.


	15. It's raining women ii

"Sometimes Tibbs totally sucks!" Amy announced as she walked behind his desk and yanked open one of the drawers.

McGregor, Lisa, and Tommy looked up sharply from their computers.

_This was new._

"What's going on?" McGregor wanted to know.

"You know how I bought you guys those MP3 players?"

"Yeah?"

"Well his is still here. Unwrapped. Unused. _Untouched_."

"He's got a lot on his mind, Ames," Tommy said. "Cut the guy some slack."

"I bought you these four weeks ago!" she fumed. "And four weeks ago the only thing on his mind was probably Colonel Han. It isn't funny, Lisa," she said as the Israeli smiled.

"Are you concerned that you are no longer his favorite?"

"I don't want my tax refund money to go to waste," Amy snapped.

"Does Tibbs even listen to music?" McGregor asked.

"He has to listen to something while he carves balusters and builds boats in his basement. Right?" Amy looked from one team member to the other.

"Maybe the sound of the hand tools caressing the wood is all the music he needs," Lisa suggested. "_What?_"

"Oh nothing," Tommy said with a dreamy smile as his mind supplied an image of _her_ hands caressing _his_ wood.

"Maybe he didn't see it there ..." McGregor suggested. Aiming for diplomacy when he realised Amy was gearing towards a meltdown. It was far too early in the day for hysteria. "Maybe you should …"

"Load it up for him? McGregor, you're a genius." Amy snatched the player up and started to walk away. Rattling off the names of bands she favored.

"Amy ..." he called after her.

"Yeah?"

"I don't think Tibbs is into _Random Squelch."_

"_Purple Virulence?" _she asked. Retracing her steps backwards until she was standing in front of him.

"Don't think so."

"_Rusty Pleasure Rings?_"

"Nope."

"_Lethal_ _Monkey Farts?_"

"Uh .. no."

"So what music am I going to put on?" Her voice took on its familiar whine.

"I do not think Tibbs is a rocker," Lisa said seriously.

"Classical music?" Amy asked hesitantly as though she were dreading a yes in answer. "Reggae? New Age?"

"Nah." Tommy said.

"What then?"

Tommy exchanged a knowing look with McGregor.

"Country and Western," they said in unison.

Amy went cross-eyed.

"Goose!" she shouted as the medical examiner materialised.

"My dear?"

"Do you know what kind of music Tibbs likes? Actually that's a stupid question. Of course you do. You two have known each other forever. You're like .. _tight_ .. you know? Thick as thieves, peas in a pod, and all that .. jazz. I want to fill up his MP3 with music he likes and I have no idea what he likes. What does he like, Goose?"

A mysterious smile crossed Ronald Gosling's face.

"I really couldn't say," he said as he kept walking.

"But Goose ..." Amy said as she ran after him.

"Hey McKnowledgeable," Tommy called as the pair disappeared into the back elevator. "Got that list yet?"

"Just pulling the last names now," the younger agent said as he tapped on his keyboard, "aaaand .. here we go."

"Is it really seven?" Lisa wanted to know as she rounded the desk and leaned on his shoulders.

"Fraternizing in the workplace is discouraged!" Tommy hissed jealously at her.

Lisa rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out him, before leaning more emphatically over McGregor.

"Is it really seven?" she repeated.

"Yup. Here's the list. Ginger, Sawyer, Bethany, Esther, Sara, Ruth, and Delilah."

Tommy looked at the list in horror.

"Think the Boss has a thing for Old Testament na .." He trailed off. "He's behind me, isn't he?"

"In the Old Testament punishment was death, beating, or banishment from the tribe, DiAmo. Want me to go OT on your ass?"

"Uh no, Boss," he said as he scampered back to his desk.

"Sharon, DiAmo, you'll interview wives two, three and four. McGregor, you do five, six, and seven with Colonel Han. I'll be in observation," Tibbs informed them drily. "With the Director."

"On it, Boss," McGregor said with a brief nod at the Colonel as Tibbs placed a hand under her elbow and steered her away.

As they rounded the corner Tommy stood from his desk and sauntered back to McGregor's.

"What time does the show hit the – never mind."

The elevator dinged. Out of it came a frazzled-looking Agent Bags. And six taciturn redheads. An unidentified agent brought up the rear.

"Get your hands off me," one of them snapped as Bags ushered her towards their desks.

Tommy grinned, and found temptation impossible to resist.

"_It's raining Wo-men! Hallelujah! It's raining Wo-men! Amen!  I'm gonna go out, I'm gonna let myself get  absolutely soaking weeeet!_ Oh .. hey Baggy!"

"Can it, DiAmo."

"Tough round up, huh?" Tommy said as he looked over the man's shoulder at the group of women.

"You have no idea."

"Well better you than me, any day" Tommy replied sarkily.

"Where's that sonofabitch?" one of the redheads demanded as she swept Bags aside. "The least he could do is be here to explain himself. I was getting an Ayurvedic massage when these oafs showed up."

"Agent Tibbs is busy, ma'am," McGregor said. Straightening his tie as he stepped up.

"With whom? _His precious Director?_"

This had to be the shared ex-wife, he decided. Ginger _had_ warned them about her.

"I'm not at liberty to say," he said placatingly.

"Don't patronize me," she said.

"Not patronizing you, ma'am," he said with a straight face. "Now if I can just have your attention, ladies. We are going to have to interview you separately, so if you'll just follow me or one of my colleagues when your name is called ..."

* * *

_**Ten minutes later ...**_

"No popcorn?" Gwen Ghepard asked as Tibbs slipped into the interrogation room.

He shot her a withering look and turned his eyes towards the glass.

"So this is ..."

"Number five."

"Sara .." she said as she glanced at the list McGregor had printed up for her. "You were married to her for -"

"Six months."

"And you left her because ..."

"This the Inquisition, Gwen?"

She looked over at him and smiled.

"I'm sure she'll spill her guts to Colonel Han," she said. Turning her eyes forward as the woman in question began to speak.

"How long were you married to Agent Tibbs?"

"Six months."

"And you divorced him because ..."

"Because he wasn't married to me. He was married to the job. _And to the goddamn boat_. But I took care of that," she said triumphantly as she looked over Molly's shoulder at the glass. "Didn't I, Jareth?"

"Agent Tibbs isn't there ma'am."

"The hell he isn't," the woman snapped back. "Did you ever find her, Jareth?" she called mockingly.

In the observation room Tibbs rubbed a hand across his face.

"Dare I ask?" Gwen said.

"Came home one night and the basement wall had been knocked down. She was gone. So was the boat."

Gwen's eyes widened.

"Did you ever find it?"

"_Her_, Gwen. A boat's female."

"Did you ever find her?"

"Yeah."

"Are you going to keep me in suspense?"

Tibbs took a deep breath. Reliving the moment he'd found out that the boat was being used to ferry prostitutes up and down the Mayan Riviera. He couldn't find it in himself to tell her that that had been the boat he'd built for her.

"Need coffee," he said brusquely as he left the room.

He returned just as ex-wife number seven started dabbing at her eyes with McGregor's handkerchief.

"I didn't want to do it," she sobbed. "But they made me. They s-said .. they said I owed it to all the other redheads out there to make sure he never hurt another one of us."

"You were married to Agent Tibbs for .." Molly asked.

Delilah's eyes snapped to hers.

"How is this relevant?" she asked. Looking at Molly through suspicious eyes and then throwing her head back and laughing.

"Insatiable?" Gwen asked on the other side of the window. Making Tibbs wonder how she could have her pegged so fast. Until he realised that it took one to know one.

He shuddered slightly. Remembering endless phonecalls from Delilah at the most inopportune moments. He turned his attention back to the two women in the other room.

"So you were married to Agent Tibbs for ..."

"Five wonderful months," Delilah said with a smirk. Clearly lost in memory lane.

"Excuse me for asking, but if they were so wonderful why did you divorce?"

Delilah's eyes lost their sparkle.

"_He_ divorced _me_. Apparently I was too .. needy."

"Too .. needy?" Molly wasn't sure she wanted to know what that meant but found herself pushing anyway.

Delilah smiled. "Jareth is every woman's dream, Colonel Han. _A stud_," she said appreciatively. The lust in her voice making Molly swallow compulsively. "I called him Samson when we were in bed."

"Did you let your hair grow out too, Jareth?" Gwen resisted the urge to laugh with difficulty.

Tibbs turned amused eyes on her.

"As I recall _you_ called me ..."

"Okay … shut up," she said as she reached over and placed her fingerstips across his mouth and turned her head back towards the window.

"Can I talk to him?" Delilah asked, looking hopefully at the window. "I want to tell him that I've changed. Rehab worked wonders. I'm a different person now."

"Rehab?" asked Molly warily.

"Sex addiction. Poor Jareth couldn't keep up."

On the other side, Gwen looked at Tibbs in surprise.

"Really? When did that happen?"

He had just opened his mouth to fire off a response – not even sure what he was going to say – when a knock on the door had them both turning towards it.

"Uh .. we have a problem with number six, Boss," Tommy said. "She's … um … locked herself in the ladies' room, and she's threatening to kill herself unless you come and talk to her."


	16. It's raining women iii

Tibbs cursed inwardly as he stalked down the corridor towards the ladies' room. Unease warring with annoyance in the pit of his stomach.

DiAmo hurried along behind him.

"Agent Tibbs .." a female agent said as they reached their destination.

"Whatcha got, Borrowman?"

"We have eyes in the room," she said as she indicated a monitor on a makeshift work station McGregor had set up.

"Camera through the air vent, Boss," he said.

"All we can see is this." Tibbs peered closely at the screen and made an angry noise. "It seems as though she might go through with her threat so we though we'd best get you down here, and ..." Agent Borrowman trailed off as he pushed his way past her into the rest room.

"We're not doing this, Ruth," he said as he rapped once on the closed stall door and then leaned back against one of the sinks.

"Jareth?"

"Yeah. Open up."

"Are you alone?"

He didn't stop to think about the implications of the response as he muttered an angry "yeah" - and his eyes fairly popped out of his head when the door opened and she stepped out wearing a silky grey robe.

"Remember this, Jareth?" she purred as she let the robe drop to the ground.

Tibbs swallowed compulsively at the sight of her in a lacy black garter belt; one stocking already in place.

"Just the way you like it," she said seductively. "Panties _over_ the straps. I haven't forgotten."

The small tap of her shoe against the rim of the sink made Tibbs' focus shift to the perfect leg that was now very close to him.

His body reacted immediately.

"Uh .. Director .." Agent Borrowman stuttered on the outside, as the woman in question walked towards them.

"Sitrep, Agent DiAmo. Has Agent Tibbs managed to defuse the situation?"

"Uh, no ma'am. The situation is far from defused."

Gwen leaned over McGregor's shoulder and her eyes widened as they took in the sight of Tibbs just barely restraining himself from caressing the stocking so clearly on offer.

"She played you," she said as her eyes traveled to the solitary stocking hanging over the stall door. "She wanted you to think she would use the stocking to hang herself."

A ghost of a smile crossed her features as she remembered how Tibbs had loved seeing her stockings hanging in the bathroom whenever they'd been undercover.

She leaned over McGregor and pushed the monitor's power button. "Break it down, put it away," she ordered as she indicated the equipment. "I don't want to find it here when I come out, and there'd better not be any footage in circulation. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Agent DiAmo_. Do I make myself clear?_"

"Crystal. You're going in?" he asked nervously as he realized what she was going to do. "I don't think it's a g-"

Gwen flashed him an irate look, but stopped short of telling him that Tibbs needed rescuing before he compromised himself totally.

Put a pair of stockings in front of the man and he turned into a horndog.

She didn't think his team needed to know that. They'd already seen more than they should have.

Tibbs felt as though he were drowning in desire as his fingers itched for the feel of silk beneath their tips, so he gripped the edge of the sink and held on.

"You can touch, Jareth," Ruth crooned as she prised his hand from the edge and placed it on her calf. "Do you remember how you always loved to lick the sil - "

The sound of the door opening and closing made them both look over.

"Agent Tibbs … a word," Director Ghepard said authoritatively as she stepped into the room. Her eyes ran coldly over the scantily-clad woman. "Please get dressed. This is a federal agency, not a brothel. Might remind you that you are under investigation for attempted murder. Attempting to solicit one of my agents is not helping your cause."

Ruth's cheeks flamed for a moment, and then she disappeared into the stall without a word.

"Are you alright, Jareth?" Gwen whispered. Touching his sleeve lightly as she moved close to him.

His head snapped up. He was surprised to find that her eyes were no longer angry, and there was a warmth in her voice he hadn't heard in a very long time.

"Jareth?"

"Fine," he said gruffly as he walked past her out of the room.

As he stepped out into an empty corridor the implications of what she had done hit him. Hard. He knew he should have thanked her for knowing his weaknesses and having his back, or at least been slightly gracious to her. But he was so tightly wound up that all he could think of was a quick jaunt to the mens' room to relieve the pressure.

"Where's Tibbs?" DiAmo asked as Gwen re-entered the observation room a short while later. "Lisa and Colonel Han are about to start interrogating ex number two."

"Tibbs had something to take care of."

She knew him well enough to know where he'd disappeared to and what he was doing. For a moment Delilah's comment about Jareth not being able to keep up flashed across her mind. It was difficult to reconcile that with the man who had been her lover. But it wasn't her business, she told herself. Those days were far behind them. The sight of DiAmo's gleeful expression as he mulled over her last words put a scowl back on her face as she turned to face the window.

The was staring at Molly Han through disdainful eyes.

"Tell that sonofabitch to come in here himself."

"That is impossible," Lisa replied.

Sawyer looked her up and down for a moment.

"Are you his new _probie _by any chance?" Venom dripped from her tone.

Lisa stiffened. Not liking the aspersions being cast on her Director.

"Jareth has a weakness for redheads. Good luck if you aren't one."

She looked pointedly at Molly as she spoke, and for some reason the latter felt exposed. However, she had no choice but to carry on.

"Mrs. Floorwell .." she said as she shuffled the papers in front of her.

Sawyer wasn't interested. She angled her head slightly and looked over Molly's shoulder.

"I want to talk to _her_."

"Her?"

"I'll make it real simple, honey," Sawyer said as she put her palms flat on the table and leaned forward. "I don't want to talk to you, I want to talk to Gwen Ghepard. She's responsible for this crap anyway."

Lisa tensed again.

"Director Ghepard is ..."

"Here." A voice from the doorway made them all turn around. "It's alright, Colonel Han. I'll take over."

Tibbs rounded the corridor just as Molly was walking out of the interrogation room.

"Mol?" he asked in confusion.

She shook her head and led the way into the observation room. Tibbs took one look through the window and immediately pivoted on his heel.

He felt Molly's fingers on his forearm, but it was the look in her eyes which stopped him in his tracks.

"You were more than just colleagues," she said in a voice low enough that DiAmo wouldn't hear.

It sounded terribly like an accusation, and Tibbs stiffened.

"Your point?"

"Boss .." DiAmo's voice drew his gaze in the direction of the window.

He shook Molly off gently and came to stand by the younger agent's side.

In the interrogation room the two women were standing toe to toe.

"So you finally managed to sleep your way to the top," Sayer snarled.

Gwen pulled herself up a little taller in the face of the accusation, and then turned to face Lisa.

"I want DiAmo and Han out of observation," she said to her in Hebrew. "And tell your boss to stay out of this room. No matter what happens."

Lisa nodded and exited as Gwen turned back to Sawyer.

"You wanted to talk to me. I'm here. _Talk_."

"You destroyed my marriage."

"No."

"You seduced him."

"No, I didn't."

"He divorced me because of you."

Gwen stared at her impassively.

"When I joined the team you had already filed for divorce."

"But we were still living together. I wanted to reconcile, to give it another shot, but his head was too full of you. He'd come home from work aroused and smelling of perfume, but he never came anywhere near me. I found your stockings in his jacket pocket one day, so don't you lie to me."

Gwen blinked in confusion.

She and Jareth hadn't become lovers till long after Sawyer was out of the picture. But suddenly she remembered the bottle of _Ungaro_ perfume that had gone missing from her desk one day. At the time she'd assumed it had been taken by the janitor who had been caught stealing things from agents' desks, but now she wasn't so sure. She couldn't remember any stockings going MIA though. Although she had worn them regularly to work she hadn't known about Jareth's fetish. She'd discovered that in Europe a lot later.

"So this is why you wanted to kill him .."

"The bastard deserves to die a thousand deaths. And so do you, you husband-stealing _slut_."

She spat, and Gwen stood from her chair as she wiped its trail out of her right eye.

"This interview is over," she said as she walked back to the door.

"I hope you picked up a chronic STD on your way up the ladder!" was the last thing she heard as she stepped out into the corridor and closed the door behind her.

To her right, DiAmo and Molly Han were standing in the corridor, looking less than happy.

"If you wouldn't mind finishing up .." she said to both of them as she walked past. "I'll have Agent McGregor send down the fourth."

* * *

**A/N:**

For some reason the system is deleting random words from the document. I've tried to fix this half a dozen times already, and have now given up. So ... I _am_ aware that there are errors, but can't do much about it.

One part left to the ex-wives story, and it will come soon. Just want to say thanks for all the reviews, and **HAPPY THANKSGIVING**!


	17. It's raining women iv

**A/N:** _**Masacci and Curly**_ are the _Deep Six equivalents_ of _**Pacci and Burley**_ (who were apparently on Gibbs' team in canon when Jen was).

* * *

Molly tried not to stare at the fourth ex-Mrs. Tibbs. Although she was a redhead like the others, she seemed different. She sat there quietly, pushing in her cuticles, and Molly found herself wanting to know more about her relationship with Jareth. Try as she might, she could not figure out what he'd seen in her.

"Does he have to be here?" Esther asked suddenly as she indicated Tommy.

"I can have a female officer brought in, if that would make you more comfortable."

"Yes."

"Agent DiAmo, please send Officer Sharon in and wait outside."

When he stepped into the corridor, Lisa was already out there.

"Who's in observation?" he asked.

"Tibbs and the Director."

She was about to slip into the interrogation room when he grabbed her by the arm.

"Did Tibbs look different to you?"

"Different?"

He waggled his eyebrows at her and gestured with his fist.

"You are disgusting, Tommy," Lisa shot back as she turned away from the lewd demonstration.

"You didn't answer my question."

Lisa turned to look at him and then leaned in close.

"Maybe," she whispered. Knowing it would fuel his imagination.

Before he could answer she was gone and he found himself standing alone in the corridor. With a smile on his face he entered the observation room.

Tibbs and Gwen stood side by side facing the glass.

"Something funny, DiAmo?" Tibbs asked without turning round.

"Uh no, Boss." _Spoilsport_.

"Tell Agent McGregor to bring number three down."

"Yes ma'am."

He found himself reluctant to leave, however. There was a vibe in the room which he hadn't felt since the Director had first joined the agency a few years before. Speculation had been rife back then, and he'd been the scuttlebutt king.

It wasn't nearly as fun fantasizing about Tibbs and Molly Han.

When he was gone, Gwen looked across at the man next to her. If she hadn't seen the sated look in his eyes when she'd come back downstairs, she'd be wondering whether he'd actually relieved himself at all. But she'd seen it and recognised it for what it was, so she didn't quite understand why there was a tense outlook to him; especially around his shoulders.

"Is there anything I should know before the interrogation begins?" she asked. Watching as his shoulders tightened a bit more at her question. "Jareth?"

"Dunno, Gwen," he snapped.

She turned back towards the window and contemplated the woman in the room. Wondering what was unsettling Jareth.

She got her answer soon enough.

"You met Agent Tibbs ..."

"Jareth and I belonged to the same church. One of the water pipes in my bathroom burst and the Pastor asked Jareth if he would help me out."

"I see. And you were married …"

"Seven months later."

"For ..." Molly shuffled papers looking for the information.

"Four months, nine days, six and a half hours," Esther supplied.

"And you divorced because .."

Esther reached out and placed a hand on the folder. Flattening it on the table.

Surprised by the familiarity, Molly looked up.

"Have you ever been married, Colonel?" It wasn't a question she'd been expecting.

"No, I can't say that I have."

"When God created woman he had a very special role in mind for her. That of home maker. Jareth did not allow me to exercise my rights within the institution of marriage."

"He did not want children," Lisa clarified.

"He did not treat me like a wife should be treated."

"You feel he did not respect you."

"I was unprepared for life with a man like him," Esther said as she started to wring her hands. "The Prophet Malachi is very clear that a man should treat a wife as his companion. Jareth did not."

"And yet you did not think there was anything wrong with breaking the sixth commandment?"

"I didn't kill anyone," Esther shot back.

"But you did _conspire_ to," Molly intervened.

Esther's eyes narrowed, and as the Colonel watched she suddenly seemed to morph into a different kind of person altogether.

Anger laced her tone as she started to speak rapidly.

"You try living with someone who treats you like an indentured servant," she shouted. "Someone who forgets to take the towel into the bath; who never puts the toilet seat down; who pees _standing up_ and doesn't aim properly; who drives like he is possessed, who is consistently late for dinner; who never apologizes; who never shares anything intimate except the skidmarks on his underwear; who asks you to leave stockings hanging in the bathroom. And that is without the greatest insult of all!"

On the other side of the glass Tibbs rolled his eyes at the sound of Gwen snickering softly.

"Insult?" Molly wasn't sure she could handle any more visuals, but felt compelled to ask.

"He wouldn't let me do the ironing!"

In the observation room, Gwen's snicker turned into a full throated chuckle.

"Next she'll be complaining that you sniffed your toes when you thought no one was watching," she teased. "Or didn't you do that with her?"

Tibbs was saved by DiAmo popping his head round the door.

"McGregor is here with number three, Boss," he said.

"Have Agent McGregor escort number four upstairs when Colonel Han is done," Gwen said.

"Should I ..."

"Officer Sharon will conduct the interview with the Colonel."

Tommy nodded and waited in the corridor until the switch was effected.

He pulled Lisa aside as she made to follow Bethany in.

"What'd I miss?"

"Nothing much. Although I think that the issue that Tibbs has with stockings is more serious than we think."

"You mean like a fetish?"

"What is a fetish?"

"Never mind," he said with a grin as he released her arm.

"Tommy …" she called as he started to walk away. "Is it not common practice for men in this country to urinate standing up?"

"Is there any other way?"

"Esther Tibbs is a strange woman," Lisa said with a shrug. "And what are skidmarks?"

"Is that a trick question?"

"I am serious, Tommy."

"Uh .. burnt tire rubber on the roads?" He was clearly confused by the question. "Why?"

"Why would Tibbs have burnt tire rubber in his underwear?"

Tommy choked on his own saliva.

* * *

Bethany Flannigan had always been a mystery to Gwen. Her mind ran back to the night she'd met her for the first time several years earlier. Jareth had been divorced from Sawyer a few weeks when Ronald Gosling had introduced them. He'd brought her along as his date to a team birthday dinner. She remembered how amused they had all been at the sight of Bethany laying claim to Jareth all evening – and how Masacci and Curly had brought it up for days on end. She remembered the other woman staring as though she were sizing her up and trying to decide how much of a threat to her Gwen was. At the time she hadn't been a threat at all, as far as she knew, so the only thing she remembered was being amused. It certainly wasn't her fault the relationship had floundered. Bethany had become clingy after a few dates. Calling during work hours often enough to prompt Jareth to dump his phone into a coffee cup one day. She'd become history pretty fast after that. Gwen had been surprised to find out that he'd married her less than three months after he returned from their undercover jaunt in Europe. She was still struggling to make sense of Ginger's warning that Bethany had it in for her as surely as Sawyer did. She'd heard what Sawyer had to say, and found herself watching Bethany with the same kind of interest now.

On the other side, Molly Han wasn't quite sure what to make of the woman sitting in front of her - but she had her pegged somewhere between neurotic, needy, and downright pissed.

"Ms. Flannigan .." she said for the third time, trying to draw attention back to herself.

But Bethany's gaze was focused on the glass separating the room from the one behind it.

"Ms. Flannigan .."

"She's in there, isn't she?"

"I cannot account for the whereabouts of anyone but myself and Officer Sharon."

"I know she's in there." _Are you having a good time, Gwen?_" Her voice rose in pitch slightly.

"Ms. Flannigan .." Molly tried once more.

"I know she's in there. Watching. Smiling that fake smile of hers. Gloating. Come out here and face me like a woman."

"Ms. Flannigan!" There was no trace of the previous courtesy in Molly's voice now.

"That self-serving bitch is the reason my marriage to Jareth failed. _You_ c_ome out here too, you bastard. _Come out and look me in the eyes and tell me you're sorry for ruining my life." She turned sharply back to Molly and spat, "do you have any idea what it's like to walk in someone else's shoes all the time? To have to live in someone else's shadow? To know that you're a replacement? "

Tommy wasn't sure exactly what he was seeing, but he could have sworn that his boss had moved fractionally closer to _his_ boss since the last time he'd chanced a look at them. There was something there just beyond his ability to define, but it niggled at his brain and made his antennae twitch.

In the other room Bethany Flannigan ranted and raved. At the sight of Molly's awestruck look she stood from her seat, and leaned across the table despite requests to sit back down. "Do you have any idea what it's like to be madly in love with someone only to find out that he isn't making love to you but to someone else?" she sobbed hysterically "At first I thought he was saying Bethany. But it wasn't Bethany, it was Gwenny. Always _always_ Gwenny."

Tibbs knew the chair was coming even before she threw it, and despite the fact that he knew it wouldn't break through he lunged at Gwen and pushed her against the wall. Out of the corner of his eye he saw DiAmo run out of the room; in the background he could hear Lisa and Molly trying to restrain his ex-wife; but as he checked her over instinctively for cuts he knew she didn't have, his fingers snagged on the pulse point in her neck. The assault of Gwen's perfume on his senses was sudden and absolute, and it took him a while to realize that the effect on him was so profound because it was the same perfume she'd used behind her knees back in the day.

The realization sparked a memory which sent him reeling.

_**He was seething with rage after a heated turf war with the FBI which he'd lost. So angry that he walked into the women's locker room instead of the men's. He didn't see Gwen there until he quite literally bumped into her. And when he did his blood stopped bubbling and flooded south in a rush. His mouth ran dry and he was quite sure his jaw was hanging open.**_

_**One of her legs was raised onto bench in the middle of the room and she was dabbing some perfume to the back of her knee. **_

_**It took him all of two seconds to realise that she had the good stuff on. Subconsciously he'd always known she wasn't a thigh high kind of woman, but the sight of metal clasps peeking out from under the skirt hitched around her waist almost did him in. **_

_**He was staring. He knew it. She knew it. But there was nothing but concern in her voice as she lowered her leg hastily to the ground, smoothed out her skirt, and turned to face him.**_

"_**Jareth?"**_

_**The smell of perfume permeated the air and all he could think about was how she wearing her panties. Over or under her garter belt? Was she wearing them that way for herself or was she sending a message to whoever she was meeting? No woman he had ever known wore perfume behind her knees for herself, so logic dictated that she was going to warm someone's bed tonight. The thought irritated the hell out of him.**_

"_**Is something wrong?"**_

_**The fact that he was attracted to her hit him like a ton of bricks. **_

_**He supposed he should be grateful that she was looking at his face and not his burgeoning groin, as she moved closer, but the part of him that wanted to take over felt overwhelmed and in need of tactile stimulation. He wanted her to touch him. To caress him firmly but gently over his pants just enough to bring him to the edge. He wanted to touch her. Wanted to fix those clasps to the welt of her stocking himself, and then run his hand up and down the silk till he couldn't stand it anymore.**_

"Get your mind out of the bedroom, Jareth."

He blinked twice as the Director's voice brought him back to the present.

"It wasn't in the bedroom, Gwen," he said. But his voice was so hoarse that he wasn't even sure himself where his mind had been.

"Coulda fooled me." She tried for nonchalant but her pulse was racing as fast as his, and they both knew it.

The moment stretched – neither one of them willing to give an inch – and then she disengaged herself from him.

Not a minute too soon, either.

"What do you want me to do with number three, Boss?" DiAmo's head popped round the door

Tibbs had just opened his mouth to reply when his cell phone went off.

"Amy's got something," he said as he stalked out of the room.

"What about .. um .." Tommy nodded in the direction of the glass.

"Slip some valium into her coffee," Gwen said as she followed Tibbs out.

Tommy stepped into the room and closed the door. Something had happened in here. He could smell it in the air. With the smile on his face getting broader by the second, he pulled out his phone.

"McWiz," he said when his colleague answered, "pull up the betting spreadsheets. There's something going on."

He sniffed the air delicately after he'd closed his phone.

Definitely something going on.

* * *

**A/N:** I thought I'd be able to wrap it up with this chapter, but apparently not. One more to go for this, and then we have a surprise pairing. One which was never hinted at on the show in any way, shape, or form.


	18. It's raining women v

The sound of latex gloves being snapped off competed with the sound of Amy's voice.

"I _know_. I know it's urgent. And l can already tell you the propellant, the primer, and the percentage of nickel and copper in the brass. I can tell you who manufactured the ammo, the batch number, and even where it was sold. With some degree of accuracy, I can also tell you that it was fired from a -"

"Whatcha got, Ames?"

"Tibbs! Director! I was telling Jareth … the bulldog," she added when Gwen looked confused, "that with some degree of accuracy .."

"_Some?_" Tibbs looked mutinous.

"Boss .." His attention was directed to the entrance by a new arrival.

"Whatcha got, McGregor?"

"Six is having a panic atta-" A cracking sound from the direction of the windows made him throw himself forward. "Director!"

He tackled Gwen indelicately to the ground. Holding her down as Tibbs shot out the lights.

"Gwen?"

"I'm fine, Jareth."

"McGregor ..." Tibbs said as he moved closer in the darkness.

"Boss?" He shifted his weight off the Director.

"Close off Anacostia Park between the bridges. Get DiAmo and Lisa out there. It's now a crime scene."

"On it."

"Hey!" Tibbs grabbed him by the leg. "What if he has a night-vision scope?"

"Good point."

McGregor dropped to his hands and knees and started to crawl away. Only to find his path being blocked by 155 pounds of goth.

"Be careful," Amy fumbled for his face in the darkness and pressed a hard kiss to his mouth.

"McGregor!" They jumped apart immediately. "Get the Director out of here. Escort her to autopsy, then call Horace and have her detail take over."

"Yes Boss."

"Tibbs ..." Amy said as soon as the other two had crawled out of the lab.

"Yeah?" He could almost hear her brain processing the facts, and was pretty sure he knew what she was going to say.

"You weren't by that window when he fired."

"I know."

"But the Director was."

Although he was pretty sure Gwen had reached the same conclusion all by herself, part of him was glad she wasn't around to hear it.

"You have to keep her safe, Tibbs," Amy said as she sidled up to him in the darkness. "We can't lose the Director to some crazy hitman."

Tibbs wrapped an arm around her and dropped a kiss to her head.

"I'll keep her safe, Amy. I promise."

* * *

_**Gwen's office, one hour later ..**_

Molly looked from Jareth to his boss and back again as they stood staring at each other over her desk. Stuck in a gridlock which made her want to bang their heads together or laugh out loud. She couldn't decide which avenue she wanted to pursue.

"Not doin' it, Gwen."

"You will _do_ whatever I _tell you_ to do, Agent Tibbs."

"I am not wasting my agents on .."

"_My_ agents," Gwen corrected. "Agents who answer to _me_, as _Director_."

"Someone tried to kill you an hour ago. _Director_."

"And _I_ already _have_ a detail. You, on the other hand .."

"Not gonna happen."

Gwen's eyes narrowed for a moment, and then a smile broke out on her face. A smile which told Tibbs he wasn't going to like what she had to say.

"Then you leave me no choice, Jareth. Effective immediately I am turning the case, and the responsibility for your safety, _completely_ over to Army CID. Colonel?"

"I'll monitor him. _Closely_, Director."

"I'm sure you will," Gwen said as she sat down and picked up a case report. "Anything else?" she asked when Tibbs made no move to leave her office.

Tibbs glared at her once and then turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. Banging the door behind him for good measure.

Gwen waited for a moment before picking up her cell phone.

"McGregor," she said into it when he answered, "my office, please. Update," she said when he was standing in front of her.

"As you requested, a tracking device has been placed in Agent Tibbs' credentials. We'll be able to track him from the assessment center when he leaves the building."

"Good. Now, the other matter .."

She watched his body language change fractionally, and smiled slightly as he pulled himself up to his full height and voiced his opinion.

"I don't think it's a good idea, Director."

She felt somewhat proud that Tibbs had rubbed off on his junior agent enough for him to stand up for what he believed in, but the fact remained that the decision _had_ been made, and she was not about to back down.

"Your objection is duly noted," she said as she pushed her seat backwards slowly and stood from it. "The plan will stand as is. The moment Agent Tibbs and Colonel Han leave the building, my decoy will leave with Horace. You and I will tail Tibbs and Colonel Han. And McGregor ..."

"Ma'am?" He turned back from the door.

"I chose you over Agent DiAmo for a reason. I expect complete discretion."

"Yes Ma'am."

He caught Horace's eye as he stepped into the outer office, and together they walked onto the landing.

"I don't like it," Horace said slowly. And McGregor realized that the security officer was as uncomfortable with this as he was.

"She isn't going to change her mi-"

"Can you protect her if this goes south?" Horace interrupted.

It took McGregor a moment to realise what he was being asked – and when he did he bristled.

"Are you asking me if I'd take a bullet for Director Ghepard?"

"Damn straight I am."

For a moment McGregor was floored. He really hadn't thought about it in those terms at all, and yet he found it irritating that his loyalty was being questioned.

"McGregor?"

There was an edge to Horace's voice that had McGregor looking at him in a different light all of a sudden.

"Yes," he replied with a determined nod. "I'd take it."

Suddenly he found himself wondering whether Horace harbored feelings for the woman he protected on a daily basis.

"Not going to mince my words, McGregor. If anything happens to her you'll wish you hadn't been born."

"Understood."

Horace nodded and then looked away sharply – realizing suddenly that he'd revealed more than he should have. He was, however, saved further embarassment by his phone going off.

"The decoy's on her way," he said after a few moments.

"I'm ready to roll when the time comes." McGregor slapped him on the shoulder and headed towards the elevator.

As he travelled down towards the forensic lab there was only one thing on his mind.

"Amy .." he said as he walked in.

"McGrego - " He cut her off with a passionate kiss and then hugged her tight.

"What's going on?" She responded to the tension in him immediately.

"Nothing. I just .." He hugged her again. Fearful all of a sudden that something would go wrong and he wouldn't get another chance to show her how he felt. "I just .. I love you, Amy. I just wanted you to know."

He released her abruptly and started to walk away.

"McGregor!" she shouted after him, her voice laced with disbelief. "You can't waltz in here, drop a bomb like that and leave!"

McGregor stopped in his tracks.

"Something's going down, isn't it?" Amy said as she came to stand in front of him. "Don't lie to me. I can feel it in my adrenals. Well, that and it's written all over your face."

McGregor debated keeping silent, but found that he couldn't because he didn't want a relationship based on lies with Amy.

"I need your help," he said. Knowing that the plan had more chance of success if she was in on it. The Director need never know, after all. "But you have to keep it a secret."

He held out his pinky dramatically.

"My lips are sealed," Amy said as she linked her own with his. "Now _spill_ .."

He did.

"Does Tibbs know about this?" she asked with wide eyes when he was done.

McGregor rolled his eyes. "Uh .. no."

"This has disaster written all over it."

"You don't think I can protect her?" He felt himself start to bristle again.

"I mean Tibbs is going to go ape-shit when he finds out."

"I know .." McGregor started to feel uncomfortable all over again.

"We need to tell Tommy and Lisa."

"Then the _Director_ will go ape-shit."

"What the Director doesn't know ..."

"Can't hurt her," McGregor supplied.

"Can't hurt _us_," Amy amended as she picked up her phone and dialed Tommy's cell phone number.

* * *

**A/N:** Didn't want to delay too long inbetween updates, so there will be one more piece to this storyline. And no .. the surprise pairing is _not_ Horace and the Director.


	19. It's raining women vi

**A/N:** I know I keep saying that each new chapter will be the last for this part of the story, and every time I end up having to split. But it's been a while since the last update, and writing time is hard to come by these days. I hope nobody minds.  


* * *

They were starting to get to her.

All of them.

As irritating as it was to acknowledge, all of the redheads in the building were getting on her nerves merely by virtue of existing.

Although she'd admittedly lost a few nights of sleep when she'd found out Jareth had married Bethany, she'd never been jealous of any of his ex-wives. She'd certainly never wanted to be one. But now that her role in the demise of two marriages was being thrown in her face, she found herself thinking about him a lot more than she should. Especially since he was in a relationship with Molly Han and consequently off limits.

The fact that she was thinking about him at all was enough, in itself, to piss her off – and the need to let off some kind of steam started to build.

Exponentially.

The intercom on her desk buzzed – pulling her from her thoughts.

"Ma'am .. Ruth Tibbs and Agent Floorwell are asking to see you."

"Send Agent Floorwell in."

"He's downstairs, ma'am. There's a bit of a situation in the bullpen."

For a moment Gwen contemplated barricading herself in her office. God, she wanted this day to be over.

"I'll be right down."

She wondered about humoring Ruth Tibbs. Last she remembered the woman had been having a panic attack. No doubt Goose was attending to her and, in all honesty, she was more interested in hearing what Floorwell wanted. Even if she was almost sure this was going to become a turf war due to vested interest on the agent's part. He had a daughter to protect after all.

She curled a strand of hair behind her ear as she picked up the phone.

* * *

"Tibbs will never agree," Tommy said to Lisa as they approached the agent desks from the elevators. "Not so sure about the Director. Or the Colonel."

"I do not think Colonel Han will give up control that easi-" Lisa trailed off as her eyes fell on the cluster of people a few feet away from them.

Ruth Tibbs, still somewhat hyperventilating, was sitting on a chair in front of McGregor's desk. Goose hovered by her side, trying to talk to her, but she only had eyes for Colonel Han - and the way she occasionally looked to Tibbs for support as she engaged Agent Floorwell in a heated discussion.

"Director .."

"Gwen .."

"Director Ghepard .."

"Director .."

Tommy's head snapped in the other direction as four voices rose in unison.

"Uh-oh," he said, as the Director started to walk down the stairs and Ruth Tibbs rose from her seat and joined the greeting party. "Train wreck. I want to look away but I can't."

Lisa tried not to smile.

"Is there a problem?" Gwen asked diplomatically.

"No problem," Molly replied immediately.

"Need you to tell the FBI they can't have the case," Tibbs supplied simultaneously.

Gwen's eyes ran over all of the people assembled for a moment - and then she turned to Thaddeus.

"I was just reassuring your Director that we have the case well in hand, Agent Floorwell. We have passed it over to Army CID, and that is where it will be staying." She caught Jareth's smug nod out of the corner of her eye. "Are you almost ready to leave, Agent Tibbs?" When he rolled his eyes, she added, "you will go into Colonel Han's protective custody, Agent Tibbs, or I assure you I _will_ turn this case over to the FBI before you so much as blink. I take it you still intend to monitor him _closely_, Colonel Han?"

With every inference she made Ruth's eyes grew wider and more distressed, and suddenly the woman encapsulated all of Gwen's irritation with Tibbs' women – past and present. Recognizing this, she stuck her hands into her pant suit pockets. "If there's nothing else," she said as she turned on her heel.

Knowing she needed to get back to her office before she did something utterly rash.

She should have known it wouldn't be that simple.

"Director Ghepard .."

Ruth Tibbs sprang forward and tried to place a hand on her arm.

Cool and collected, Gwen turned round. Ignoring her totally, she addressed Molly.

"Perhaps you could escort Tibbs' ..." she looked at Ruth for a moment, "your _suspect_ .. to the interrogation room. Unless, of course, _you_ need her for something?" She turned to look at Tibbs.

"No no. She can go," Tibbs said.

"Good." Gwen started to walk away.

"I'm not done yet," Ruth protested.

"Yes you are," Molly said as she tried to take her by the arm and steer her away.

"Take your hands off me!" Ruth's voice rose sharply as she shrugged her off. "Director Ghepard .. please."

Gwen stopped in her tracks and turned back around; the look on her face a mixture of annoyance and haughtiness. Anticipating something unsavory, Tibbs, Molly, and Agent Floorwell sprang forward to intervene – and Tommy watched the scene unfold in surreal slow motion.

Unable to believe what he was seeing.

In the swarm of congregating bodies, as Ruth tried to make physical contact with her again, Gwen discreetly put a foot out and tripped her up. Then, with her hands still stuck firmly in her pockets, she headed back towards the steps without so much as a backward glance.

"You bitch!"

It took Molly a moment to realise that Ruth was addressing her - but she wasn't fast enough.

"You did that on purpose," Ruth shrieked as she threw herself at her.

"Chick fight!" Tommy shouted. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket.

"Get off me," Molly rasped as Ruth tugged mercilessly at her hair. "Get off of me!"

"Stop it!" Thaddeus said, as he and Tibbs milled around the rolling women and tried to find a way to separate them.

"Get off her, Ruth!" Tibbs bellowed as he pulled her off Molly and thrust her into Lisa's arms. "Get her out of here."

"He only likes redheads," Ruth shouted as she was hauled away.

Tibbs straightened his lapels and held out his hand to Tommy.

"Phone, DiAmo."

"Aw, Boss. She clearly assaulted Colonel Han. It's evidence."

Tibbs twiddled his fingers impatiently, and looked closely at the phone's screen when it was handed over. For the life of him he couldn't figure out how to erase the video – so he handed it back.

"Delete it," he said ordered.

* * *

_**One hour later, Molly's car.**_

"What do you think?"

Tibbs realised he had no idea what Molly was asking. The last thing he remembered was something about unconventional food options; but since he wasn't particularly hungry he didn't particularly care what they ate.

"Whatever you want is fine," he said as he looked in the rear view mirror again.

"So you want me to put a boiled urchin into the Director's coffee cup ..."

He found her shaking her head at him as his head snapped round.

"You haven't listened to a word I said, have you, Jareth?"

"Something's wrong, Mol," he said. Eyes still glued to the mirror.

"Yes. Someone's trying to kill you."

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?" Molly could feel serious irritation seeping into her system. "You know, you're only Superman to your team. A bullet will take you out as surely as the next person."

Tibbs ignored her. Focusing instead on the feeling that they were being followed. What was confusing him, though, was the fact that the presence wasn't threatening. He pulled out his cell phone and considered his options for a moment before hitting speed dial #2.

* * *

Tommy was easing the car round a corner when his cell phone rang. He took one look at the display and took a deep breath as he rotated it towards Lisa.

"Yeah, Boss .."

"Where are you, DiAmo?"

"Right behind the Director, Boss."

"Uh-huh."

The line went dead.

"This never turns out well for the kids," Tommy said to Lisa as he snapped the phone shut and tossed it into her lap.

"You did not lie," Lisa pointed out. "Tibbs ordered us to to provide extra security for the Director, and that is what we are doing."

"Except that the Director is tailing _him_."

"Do you think he knows?"

Tommy shrugged and tried not to think about it.

* * *

Tibbs' eyes narrowed as he looked at the phone in his hands. There had been something guarded about Tommy's response, and it merely amplified his gut feeling that something wasn't going according to plan.

_Plan_.

That was the operative word, he realized. Someone had shifted the goal posts - and there was only one person who would do such a thing.

He hit speed dial #3 with a muttered curse.

Horace picked up after three rings.

"Put her on," Tibbs growled into the phone.

"Jareth?" Molly asked when he floored the gas pedal in anger and hit another number on his phone.

"What the hell are you doing, Gwen?"

"I see your faithful St. Bernard spilled the beans." The amusement in her voice sent ripples of anger through him.

"A decoy?" he spat. "What the hell were you thinking? Were you even thinking at all?" He turned into his street as he bellowed into the phone. Pulling into a spot a few feet from his front door before hefting himself angrily out of his seat and into the middle of the road. Waiting there till McGregor's car drew up behind his a few moments later. And immediately after his, Tommy's.

Tibbs yanked the passenger door of McGregor's door open angrily and watched Gwen step out of the car. More than raring for a fight.

"We need to get you both inside."

He was aware of Molly and of his team moving around them. But he was too invested in the way Gwen's eyes were flashing angrily - and for a moment he was sucked back into their shared past. Assaulted by memories of moments when they'd stood toe to toe after she'd done something he hadn't sanctioned. Back then she'd reined in her anger - for the most part – but the change in status quo gave this disagreement an unfamiliar edge.

Made this a heady moment.

He was too angry to recognize that the sparks were flying between them. Too angry to be aware of their surroundings or of their audience as they circled each other on the pavement.

Gwen watched him defensively. Waiting for him to rip her a new one, until fractional movement on the other side of the road caught her attention. It took all of a millisecond to realize what was going to happen - and yet she didn't think twice about throwing herself at Jareth and covering him with her own body.

As pain ripped through her back, she was aware of shots being fired at a vehicle which was speeding off, and of Tibbs' voice close to her ear.

"Gwen … stay with me .."


	20. It's raining women vii

Weeks, months, years flashed before his eyes. Channeling him down their shared past in a blurry spiraling rush. In his mind's eye it was 1999 and they were back in that dark alley in Podgorica.

"Gwen .."

He could hear the strain in his voice; feel it in his bones. Just as he had that night when she'd almost bled out in his arms.

"Gwen .. stay with me .."

"I'm still here, Jareth. Just .. play along."

The irritation in her voice, coupled with the rush of relief, made him want to laugh out loud. But he understood immediately what she was saying. People had started to gather in the street, and there was no way of knowing who might be watching. Too many perps enjoyed being part of a crime scene or an investigation.

"DiAmo, call 911," he bellowed.

"On it."

"McGregor, see if anyone saw anything we can use."

"Yes, Boss."

"Lisa .."

"I will call in the BOLO."

He was pleased to hear she'd caught the license plate. "How're you doin'?" he whispered to the woman in his arms.

"It's just a scratch, Jareth. I've had worse."

But he could see the pain on her face in the dim light afforded by the street lamps, and was pretty sure it was a lot more than just a scratch.

"Are _you_ okay?"

"Yeah."

But it was far from true.

The truth was that his thoughts were in disarray. She'd taken a bullet for him instead of the other way around. Protecting him when he should have been protecting her. It was all too surreal for his liking. He liked things cut and dry. Didn't want them any other way. Gwen walking away from their relationship years before had proved to him that he couldn't handle shades of grey - and yet this had been a day when he'd felt a heightened physical pull towards her more than once. Dangerous territory. And now _she_ was lying, contorted, in his arms, her blood soaking his jacket sleeves, and _he_ was feeling the strain of muted panic at the thought that, despite her bravado, she might not make it.

Not only was it dangerous territory. It was territory he couldn't afford to revisit.

"Jareth .."

"Yeah .."

"I'm fine."

Time had altered many things, but her ability to read him hadn't been one of them. Back in the day it had been one of the crowning glories of their partnership. Now it unnerved him.

He nodded savagely and turned round to check what was going on around them. Molly was standing on the fringes of the activity, overseeing McGregor's interactions with the neighbors, but she caught his eye immediately.

"Call Goose," he said. "Have him meet us at the hospital."

* * *

"_You were more than just colleagues."_

"_Your point?"_

Molly hated hospitals as much as she hated the fact that her interaction with Jareth, as he'd rebuffed her analysis, kept replaying her head. Watching him pace the corridors, menacing everyone with his glares, she couldn't tell how much of his nervousness was warranted. It had been made clear to them that although the bullet had ripped along Gwen's back, leaving torn flesh that would require fairly extensive suturing, the wound was in no way fatal. It would look horrible - especially after the second day when the bruising and swelling set in – but as long as a good plastic surgeon was in on the case, she'd be fine. She would be in excruciating pain for a while, but that was no reason for Jareth to be walking around like a headless chicken.

Molly suspected the reasons ran deeper – and found she didn't like that one bit. She was unable to fathom what kind of relationship they really had – but they went from communicating with a look to arguing and back to silent interaction in the blink of an eye. it was disconcerting. Not to mention damn annoying. Nothing physical was going on between them. Of that she was certain. But she always felt like an outsider in their presence. It elevated her neediness – and she hated that more than everything else put together.

As she watched, a member of staff gave Tibbs the go ahead to enter the room. He was at the door in three steps, and then faltered slightly before entering. Almost as though he was consciously toning down his desire to see his - Molly found she wasn't sure how to designate Gwen. Did Jareth think of her as his Director? As his ex-partner? As his ex-lover? Was he even able to make a distinction?

"Colonel Han .." Dr. Gosling's gentle voice to her right startled her out of her thoughts. "Can I buy you a cup of tea?"

Molly looked at him and nodded.

"Goose, do you mind if I ask you a question .." she said tentatively as she walked towards the cafeteria with him.

* * *

_**BSIS Headquarters/Bethesda Naval Hospital, Maryland**_

_**Twenty minutes later**_

McGregor was about to punch in Tibbs' number when the phone on his desk rang. He listened carefully to what he was being told, and his eyes fairly popped out of his head.

"Are you sure, McGregor?" Lisa asked a few moments later.

"Yes. Where's Tibbs?"

"Tibbs is with the Director. They asked him to switch off his phone, but I will let him know"

Tommy eyed her curiously as she put away her phone.

"What's the news from McUpdate?"

"Metro PD have found the car."

"Where?"

"The parking lot."

"At HQ?"

"Here."

* * *

"Are you planning on sitting there all night?" Gwen's voice broke the eerie silence in the room.

"How're you feelin'?"

"I'd feel a lot better if you went home, Jareth."

"Want some water?"

"Which part of _go home_ did you not understand?"

"Water?"

"Don't make me throw the bedpan at you."

"You can't reach the bedpan without _help_," he shot back mercilessly.

Instantly regretting it when Gwen exhaled through pursed lips.

"Go home, Jareth." Her voice had dropped several notches, and he wasn't sure if it was because she really didn't want him there or because she was tired. "Lisa and Tommy are here. You don't need to be here as well."

"Safest place for me to be is right here, Gwen."

She nodded in reluctant agreement, and then winced sharply.

"Need a doctor?"

"I .."

"Gwen?"

She wasn't sure she wanted to tell him that she needed to use the bedpan she'd threatened him with, but DiAmo saved her from that by popping his head round the door.

"Boss … we've got something."

* * *

The hours seemed to drag by at the pace of eternity.

McGregor rubbed his left eye vigorously. Yawning loudly in the darkness. before raising a coffee cup to his lips. It was becoming harder and harder to stay awake, and he was starting to get concerned that he was going to miss something. Tibbs had wanted Lisa to stay inside the Director's room while he and Colonel Han undertook an intensive search of the hospital. Tommy had conveniently volunteered to interview the night nurses; which had left McGregor to scour the parking lot alone.

The car had turned out to be a rental. Booked online and picked up five minutes before a Maryland Avis office had closed. Metro had determined that the driver's license supplied was fake. There was no such person as Maurice Hill, and Amy hadn't had any success running the photo through her facial recognition software.

He'd just about started to turn into an icicle when his phone rang.

"Pack it in, McGregor. Go home."

He didn't think he'd ever been happier to hear the voice of Lyrone Jareth Tibbs – but he had no intention of leaving.

The Director smiled at him when he slipped into her room half an hour later. But her eyes were dull with pain, and he couldn't help wondering if all the people constantly milling around her were getting on her nerves.

"Ma'am .." he said politely before addressing Tibbs. "Boss ... I brought food."

He'd taken it upon himself to buy take out before going back to the Director's wing. He had no doubt nobody else was going to be going home either and they would need sustenance if they were going to make it through the night. He didn't think he could bear a night of Tommy's constant whining and rumbling stomach.

"Put it over there," Tibbs said as he nodded to the corner of the room. Clearly pleased that his young agent hadn't left, even though he'd given him leave to.

"Niiice, McSalvation!" Tommy rubbed his hands together gleefully before setting about opening boxes and handing out utensils.

"Keep it down, DiAmo!" Tibbs snapped.

"Sorry, Boss."

The team ate in hushed silence. Sitting cross-legged on the floor while Tibbs paced the room.

"You're going to wear a hole in the carpet, Jareth," Gwen said after a while.

"We're being watched."

He turned sharply to Lisa. Acknowledging - and not for the first time – that he prized her gut instinct as highly as his own.

"Tibbs is right. I feel it too."


	21. It's raining women viii

_**0730 – the following morning**_

"Lisa .."

"Yes, Director?" The Israeli left her place by the window and walked over to the side of the bed.

"Does he always snore like this?" Gwen asked in hushed tones.

"Only on days of the week ending in day," Tibbs said from his place in the easy chair.

"And you know this _how_?" Gwen wanted to know.

"He lived with me for a couple of weeks one time when his lease ran out." He suppressed a shudder with difficulty, and angled his head towards the door when Molly put her head round it.

"Can I talk to you outside?" she said.

"Yeah. Lisa ..." There was no need to verbalize what he wanted.

"I will not leave the room."

"So .. does he always snore like this?" Gwen repeated.

Lisa stared at her for a moment. She hadn't seen her old friend in the woman in front of her in so many months that she was almost taken aback.

"Sometimes," she said. Careful to use a word which could be interpreted many ways.

Gwen indicated the glass of water on her bedside table.

"Wake him up," she said with a mischievous smile.

Lisa chuckled as she pulled the glass from the stand and walked purposefully towards Tommy.

"Oh downy bottom .." she cajoled as she poured the water over his head.

"GAH!" Tommy flew to his feet. "What did you do that for?"

"You snore like a drunken sailor," she said contemptibly.

"You snore like a drunken sailor with emphysema," he shot back.

"I do not snore," she answered indignantly.

"Yes you do."

"I do not."

"Do too."

"Children!" Ronald Gosling interrupted sharply as he walked in. "Might I remind you that we are in a hospital? I could hear you all the way down the corridor. Good morning Director." He smiled as he turned his attention to her. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Sore."

"That is, alas, to be expected." He drew a chair up to the side of the bed. "Now, I have called my friend the plastic surgeon, and the soonest he can come see you is ..."

Tommy turned his eyes and ears away from the conversation and focused on Lisa. She was pacing up and down the room looking at her watch.

"Expecting someone?"

"McGregor is late," she said as she dialed his number. "Have you already been to my apartment?" she asked irately when he answered. "How soon will you be here? Okay."

"McGregor has the key to your apartment?" Tommy asked incredulously when she had hung up.

"McGregor has had the key to my apartment for two years, Tommy. So has Jalmer."

"_What?_" he spluttered.

"McGregor does maintenance on my hardware and Jalmer tunes my instrument."

"You've given them the keys to the kingdom." Tommy's shoulders sagged in despair.

"I cannot be there every time McGregor wants to look at my computer or Jalmer has time to work on the piano. So they have keys."

"Where is McGregor, anyway?"

"He is parking the Lamborghini."

"Right."

"Goose .." Tibbs stalked back into the room, with Molly right behind him.

"Ho," the medical examiner said as he turned round to look at him.

"Jareth, if you don't mind ..." Gwen said with a flick of her wrist at the coffee cup in his hand.

"Yeah?"

"I don't know how you can drink that swill but the smell is making me feel sick. Can you drink it somewhere else?"

For a moment he was tempted to remind her that she'd loved this kind of swill back in the day. Irritation swept over him as he walked to the back of the room, stepped on the trash can pedal, and made a huge show of ditching the cup.

"Very mature," he heard Gwen mutter in background as the lid clanged shut.

"Move away from the window, Tibbs," Lisa half growled as she moved towards him.

Tibbs nodded and stepped sideways.

Awkward silence fell for a moment. Goose shook his head, Molly picked at imaginary lint on her jacket, Gwen shifted on the bed once or twice, and Tibbs glared at the dust beams. Tommy stood there trying to think of something to say – and smiled broadly when McGregor walked in.

"Morning ..." Sean said with a nod as he walked over to Lisa and put a package in her hands.

"Sunglasses?" Tommy wondered out loud when she pulled them out of the box.

Lisa ignored him as she slipped them onto her face and walked discreetly past the window.

"Top floor, northwest corner, Tibbs," she said. "There is a laser trained on this room."

McGregor's eyes fairly bulged out of his head.

"I can't believe that your sunglasses can detect different light spectrums, Lisa. That's amazing."

"Find out which part of the hospital that is," Tibbs snapped.

"On it, Boss." McGregor said as he hurried out of the room. "Doctors' offices," he said when he returned a few moments later holding blueprints. "Many of them empty because they're moving to a new building."

Tibbs nodded as he spoke into his cell phone.

"Thaddeus," he said as he turned on his heel and started for the door. "Got something. Building opposite. Northwest corner, top floor."

"Jareth!" Gwen's voice was hoarse, but he ignored her as he put his phone away. He knew what she would say and he wasn't interested.

"DiAmo, lets roll. McGregor, keep looking over those blueprints and find us a way in. Lisa ..." He fixed her with the same pointed stare he had earlier - and the response was the same.

"I will not leave the room."

"Jareth ..." Molly protested as he swept out of the room.

He ignored her as well.

As the door banged shut, Molly took a deep breath. The small pleasure she'd derived from the fact that Jareth had completely sidelined Gwen had turned into humiliation the moment he'd treated her the same way. She was sure the Director of BSIS was probably lying in her bed, gloating, and she didn't want to face her. Or Lisa. Or Goose.

But she really didn't have much choice.

"Well .." Ronald Gosling said as she turned around, "lets hope for the best, shall we?"

Gwen looked up at the Lisa.

"Get him on the phone" she said.

Molly could hear the steel in her voice, and suddenly she felt it too. That rush of anger at a man who blatantly ignored orders in the presence of other agencies, and took risks. Director Ghepard might well have risked her life for him for nothing at this rate. No wonder she was angry.

"He is not answering," Lisa said a few moments later.

"Of course he's not."

"You need to remain calm and remember your stitches." By her side Goose clucked like a mother hen, until she settled back against her pillows and closed her eyes.

When she opened them again there was a strange light in her eyes – and an even stranger smile.

"Gwendoline?" Goose picked up on the change immediately, but clearly she wasn't going to give him any satisfaction.

He could tell she had something up her sleeve though.

They could all tell.

* * *

Tibbs touched his earwig as he entered the stairwell with DiAmo.

"Your people set?"

"All the back-up teams are in place around the building, Tibbs. My people have sealed off the exterior. We have four unmarked vehicles standing by just in case. You got that room number, yet?"

"Workin' on it. _McGregor?_"

"Got it, Boss. Room three five nine."

"You hear that, Thaddeus?"

"Yeah. Where are you?"

"On our way. Buildings' basements are connected. ETA, two minutes."

"Standing by."

"We're not taking chances on this one, Thaddeus. At the first sign of anything, you call it in."

"Copy that," Floorwell said. "All units, hold your positions."

"McGregor!"

"Uh … get to the bottom of the stairs, Boss."

"Already there. Two doors. Right or left?"

"Right. Keep walking down the hall. Seventh door on the left after that will -"

"Got it." Tibbs broke into a run.

* * *

Gwen looked at the woman walking restlessly around the room and couldn't help but feel sorry for her.

"Goose," she said. Her eyes flicking over the Colonel before she nodded discreetly at the door. "Colonel Han," she said when he was gone.

"Director?"

"A lot of people were pleased to see Omar off the streets," Gwen began. Referring to a case they'd closed a few days before the ex-wives debacle had started.

Molly acknowledged her words with a suspicious smile.

"My superiors acknowledged your letter of commendation. I haven't had a chance to tell you personally that I appreciated it."

"You two make an effective team," Gwen replied with a small smile of her own.

"Tibbs and myself?"

"Yes. If you don't mind my asking, have you started considering life after the military? Your service is up in .. nine months?"

"Six. But yes, it has crossed my mind."

"Not to put too fine a point on it, have you thought about where the opportunity for advancement lies?"

"Are you offering me a job, Director?"

"Would it interest you? We need another Major Crime Response Team."

_Sure you do_, Molly thought to herself. Surprised at how bitter the voice in her head sounded. The surest way to get inbetween her and Jareth would be to have her work at BSIS. Their relationship wouldn't last a week.

"I'll think about it," she said diplomatically.

"I'd offer you a cocktail, but unfortunately ..." Gwen pulled a face. "I think I'd give anything for a bourbon right now. Do you drink bourbon, Colonel?"

"No, not regularly."

"Spend enough time around Tibbs, and you'll learn," Gwen said with a smile as she wondered what the woman in front of her was thinking. "Believe me. It's an acquired taste."

"And when did _you_ first acquire it?"

"It's been a while. It's something that stays with you, though. Jareth is very – sitrep McGregor." she snapped as he walked through the door. "We'll continue this conversation another time," she said to Molly before turning all of her attention to the agent.

"They're in position, Ma'am."

* * *

It was all rather surreal, Tommy decided as he watched Floorwell and Tibbs communicate silently from either side the door of room 359.

The tension was palpable.

Thick and oppressive.

Off the charts.

"We roll on my mark," Floorwell whispered to the gathered agents.

Tommy nodded along with everyone else; tightening his grip on his weapon for good measure as the FBI agent took point. Swallowing hard and hoping for the best as the door was kicked in.

Shouts of "FBI!" and "BSIS" echoed in the room.

Two figures stood at the window.

Both dressed in black. Both wearing baseball caps.

"Don't even think about it," Floorwell growled as one of them reached for a gun. "Drop it and turn around. Slowly."

The man froze and cast one look at his companion before turning.

"You too, buddy," Tommy shouted as the other figure continued to stare forwards resolutely.

"You heard the man," Tibbs shouted. "Turn around. Hands on your head."

Even before the person turned, Tommy's gut told him that they were in for a shock. Something about the way the person moved, perhaps. Or because they'd found two people when they'd been expecting one.

But no amount of gut instinct could have prepared them for the truth.

The baseball cap came off in one fluid motion, and they all stared in shock as a mane of red hair came tumbling down.

Tibbs looked as though he'd been stabbed in the heart.

"Ginger?"

* * *

_**BSIS bullpen, later that day**_

"Is it true?" Amy asked as she ran up to Tommy and Lisa.

"About the first Mrs. Tibbs being the mastermind?" Tommy asked. "Hell yeah. I was there. Heard it all with my own ears."

"_She came in to warn him, Tommy!_"

"Mind games, Amy," Goose said with shake of his head. "Of the worst kind."

"But ..."

"You have not yet heard the rest," Lisa said. Noting as she spoke that the medical examiner looked upset.

"There's _more_?" Amy asked.

"Oh yeah," Tommy said as he hung his jacket up.

"What more can there possibly be? You brought her in, right? She's going to charged?"

"We did," Tommy assured her. "But there's more about … Tibbs. Something we didn't know."

"_Something we didn't know?_" Even just the sound of that made her tummy hurt.

"You may want to sit down for this," Tommy said as he pushed her down into the nearest chair. "Amy, Tibbs had a son."

"Had?" She was quick to pick up on the past tense. "Oh my God!" Her eyes filled with tears. "How did he die."

"He did not die," Lisa said.

"Then ..." Amy trailed off, looking from Goose to Tommy in confusion.

"Tibbs had a son called Celadon with a woman called Rhiannon."

"So he was married eight times, not seven?"

"They never married," Tommy explained. "But she disappeared when the child was a few months old. Tibbs was serving abroad in the military when it happened. He was injured and they tried to contact the next of kin. They couldn't find her."

"What about the baby?"

Tommy grimaced and shook his head.

"Tibbs never found him either."

"Tibbs can find anyone."

"Evidently not," Goose said a trifle oddly.

"But I don't understand," Amy protested. "What has this got to do with Ginger?"

Tommy flashed back to the accusations that had flown around the hospital a few hours earlier.

"_You didn't care about me. You didn't care about any of us. We were all replacements, but you took my __self-esteem and you crushed it. I was the one who bore the brunt of your obsessive hunt for a woman who didn't want to be found. Still looking for her, Jareth? Still looking for the one who got away?"_

"Did you know about this, Goose?" Lisa asked – suddenly understanding what the pained look was all about.

"No," he said as he shook his head. "Almost two decades of friendship and he never thought it was worth sharing that he has a family."

"_Had_ a family, Goose."

"Jareth .." He looked up as Tibbs stalked up to them and took his badge and gun from his drawer.

Nobody missed the lack of warmth in the medical examiner's address, but there was no other kind of interaction because Tibbs' phone went off.

"Yeah, Tibbs," he growled into it. "I'll be there soon, McGregor. Heading over to the hospital," he said to Tommy as he clipped his phone onto his belt. "Director's handed the case over to the FBI."

"Taking the honors for the bust, Boss?" Tommy asked – and then wished he hadn't when Tibbs' eyes narrowed dangerously. "Right. FBI. Got it."

"Good," was all Tibbs said as he stalked towards the elevators.

"Well, that went _well," _Tommy muttered as she headed to the back elevators with Goose."One's upset, the other one's mad."

"It has been a long week, Tommy," Lisa said as she worked a kink from her neck.

"Want some help there Liii-sah?" he asked with a waggle of his eyebrows.

"I am fine, thank you. But perhaps later you would like to come over and have dinner later? I am cooking Jersualem artichokes."

"Jerusalem artichokes, huh? Sure." He seemed pleased.

Lisa smiled as she cracked her knuckles. Clearly he did not know how much gas one got from Jerusalem artichokes.

* * *

_**Still later …**_

"I'm so glad they're finally leaving," Amy said as they watched Floorwell's agents usher the ex-wives one by one into the elevator.

Tommy watched with admiration as Delilah approached the open doors, and suddenly inspiration struck.

"Hey .. hold the doors," he shouted as he sprinted over. "Just need to have a private word with the lovely ex-Mrs. Tibbs here," he said to Bags.

"Make it quick, DiAmo."

"Yeah yeah," Tommy replied as he drew Delilah to the side. "Hi .." He turned on the charm. "I'm … uh .. Tommy DiAmo .."

"I know who you are," she purred. "What can I do for you, very Special Agent DiAmo. I love that your name has the word love in it, by the way," she said as she reached out and stroked his tie. "It suits you."

Tommy grinned.

"I was just wondering if you'd mind answering a quick question about Tibbs."

She looked surprised, but shrugged her shoulders as she said, "sure."

"What kind of music does Tibbs like?"

"Things like silk stockings," she said after a moment's thought.

Tommy was halfway through walking dejectedly back to his desk when he realised what she'd just told him. He practically choked on his own spit.

"I've found out what kind of music Tibbs likes," he told a sad-looking Amy.

"Really?" Her ears perked up almost literally.

"But you may need to sit down again," he said to Amy as he pushed her into a chair.

"How bad can it be?"

"Silk Stockings."

"You mean the sound of rustling stockings?" she asked in confusion.

"Noo .." he said with a big grin on his face. "Silk Stockings as in the _film_."

"_What?_" None of this fit into her frame of reference and it showed.

"It's a film, Amy. From 1957. Fred Astaire? Cyd Charisse?"

The horror on Amy's face was a sight to behold as she shrieked, "_Tibbs likes musicals?_"

"Sssshhhh." Tommy covered her mouth with his hand. "We have to uphold his reputation around here."

"Right."

"DiAmo!" He dropped his hand as though he'd been burned, and turned round slowly to find Tibbs standing there.

His face looked like thunder. McGregor stood rigidly behind him, and it was obvious that he had been privy to whatever had happened at the hospital.

"Boss?"

Tibbs opened his mouth to speak and then turned on his heel instead.

"Going for coffee," he grunted.

Anger was radiating off him in waves, and Tommy thought it prudent to wait till he was out of earshot to quiz McGregor.

"What the hell happened?" he asked as the elevator doors slid shut.

"We .. um .. we have a new team leader," McGregor said carefully.

"He isn't going back to Belize again, is he?" Amy was already on the verge of panic.

"Um .. no."

"Then what is it?"

McGregor shifted nervously.

"Director Ghepard is going to be out for four weeks. She's made Tibbs _Acting Director_."

"So that makes_ me _your team leader," Tommy said as he rubbed his hands together.

"Actually it doesn't," McGregor said.

"Then who is the new team leader, McGregor?" Lisa asked as she came round her desk.

McGregor straightened the lapels on his jacket.

"I am," he said with a smug smile.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, this arc is done. Complete. Finished.

Yes .. it is on to the mystery pairing now. Although I do warn you - it will either delight or horrify you. There's no real middle road.

Couldn't think of anything original for a child of Tibbs – so went with another shade of green.

And for the record, I have nothing against _musicals_. It was just too good to pass up with the whole stockings theme that runs through this series.


End file.
